Chapter 1:
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
Wilson's alarm blared annoyingly letting him know that it was time to get up and start another day. He hit the SILENCE/STOP button, shutting it off before it woke his partner, lover and friend Dr. Gregory House. The man could be VERY grumpy when woken up early and no one, especially his team of ducklings because he'd take his grumpiness out on them, needed that.
He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to encourage him to get up and start his day. He has a very busy day today with patient visit after visit after visit after visit and then his patient rounds and clinic duty. In his entire 9-10hr day he has MAYBE a half hour scheduled to grab some lunch. Wilson didn't normally schedule his day quite THIS full but he had had a couple of doctors refer patients to him for consults and he tried to get those in ASAP, with cancer you normally couldn't afford to wait should you decrease the amount of time they have by delaying the process or should the disease progress too fast.
Wilson threw the blankets off him, shivering as the chill of November soaked into his skin. He stole a peek out the window, groaning inwardly when he saw snow on the ground and the snow plows hard at work. Snow means there's probably ice as well, hiding below the serene blanket of white waiting to attack. He used to like snow, before House had his infarction. Now Wilson spends every snowy day worrying about House falling on the ice and hurting himself worse or dealing with an especially grumpy House because the snow and cold makes the pain in his leg worse.
The cold makes his left wrist and right ankle ache, they were old injuries that still give him problems every once in awhile, showing just how old he is getting even though most days he doesn't feel it. He knew that, after watching his parents slowly deteriorate from old age and lack of health, getting old could be a bitch and therefore he endeavored to try to keep himself as healthy as possible via exercising and eating right.
He climbed out of the shower, drying off and slipping on his boxer-briefs before continuing with his morning rituals, trying to keep quiet so as to not wake House. He always saved blow drying his hair to the very last because normally by that time House should be getting up and getting himself ready to go in as well.
Wilson slips into their bedroom and gets dressed before going into the kitchen and putting on a pot of coffee. While the coffee brews he has a quick breakfast of Raisin Bran and orange juice, grabbing a To-Go coffee cup and filling it before heading back to their bedroom and giving his lover a quick "see you later" kiss and heading out the door.
He's happy to find that the front walk had been shoveled and salted. At least he wouldn't have to worry about House slipping on the sidewalk on the way to his car. He goes over to his own car and proceeds to "de-snowify" it, wiping all the snow and ice off his windows and then grabs the small collapsible shovel from his trunk and clears away the packed snow that the snow plow had deposited against his car.
By the time he's done and climbs into his nice and warm car, his cheeks are flush with heat, he's breathing slightly heavily, and his aches from this morning are intensified slightly and joined in with a back ache from the shoveling. It seems that no matter how much he tries to take care of himself, he still manages to wind up with minor aches and pains from too much exertion. Granted, during the winter his exercising decreases enough to where shoveling snow is a major aerobic exercise.
Wilson arrives at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital's parking lot with ease, parking his car far enough away to get in a small walk before he has to go in. It's these little walks that provide his daily exercise during the winter and though they aren't much, they are enough for him.
He smiles at the PPTH employees who are out spreading salt over the sidewalks to ensure that patients and employees alike are as safe as can be from falling before entering the building itself and scurrying quickly up to his office to deposit his coat and brief case, dons his white lab coat and begins catching up on emails and phone calls before he has his first appointment at 9a.
He grabs his coffee thermos and begins to drink the 12oz of caffeine knowing he's going to need it. It's going to be a long day! He tells himself just before he buckles down to get the morning over with.
Wilson takes a deep breath to steel himself against the next onslaught of patients. It had been a busy morning indeed and he had just escorted his last patient of the morning out his door. For the most part, all of his appointments this morning had been good ones; informing most of them that their cancer is in remission and telling two that their biopsies were negative and that they didn't have cancer at all. He only had one patient meeting that wasn't pleasant since he had had to tell her that she had breast cancer. The patient took it well, though he attributed that to shock, and he began to explain to her where things will go from there, what her prognosis was and what her options were.
He groaned inwardly when he heard the door open but looked up to find that it wasn't his office door that had opened as he had expected, it was his balcony door. House was sitting on his couch, absentmindedly rubbing his thigh and staring at Wilson with the kind of stare that makes one feel like they're being dissected.
"You look tired." He stated.
"I'm fine, just a busy day." Wilson dismissed while he ran a hand over his face, trying to force some energy into himself.
"Got time to eat?"
Wilson checked the clock. 12 noon. His next patient wasn't until 1p but he didn't fully trust fate today and fully expected to get a page about a patient. However, he wasn't about to let that stop him from taking a well deserved break and get some lunch with his friend. "Yeah, actually. You?" he asked knowing that if House didn't have time he wouldn't have come in.
"Yep." House replied while stiffly standing up.
"You ok?" Wilson asked concerned though he knew what was wrong.
House gave a slight nod, "Fine. I hate the cold."
Wilson nodded but proceeded to stiffly stand up himself. His back had become stiff and tight with the hours of constant sitting and the exercise it was put through this morning. He winced slightly hoping House wouldn't catch it. He stole a peek at his friend through his peripheral vision and if House had seen the wince, he didn't say or do anything.
Together they walked to the cafeteria, Wilson on House's right. Wilson always found it more comfortable to be on the diagnosticians right, thus making him on Wilson's left. Being left-handed, he preferred people to walk on his left side and this way he could catch the older doctor should his leg give out or the cane slip.
They grabbed their meals and headed toward a booth along the wall. Wilson's back still ached but it had loosened up to where he was moving well and not showing signs of the dull throb he felt. He was surprised to see House moving as well as he was for it was obvious that he was in a great deal of pain.
They ate genially, making small talk and laughing continuously. House's hand constantly snaked over to Wilson's plate, stealing his fries and whatever else House thought he wanted. Wilson outwardly ignored the thievery and inwardly laughed. People often wondered WHY he allowed the taciturn doctor to constantly take Wilson's food when he had his own and the truth was that it made Wilson feel good. This way he knows that House eats and he's happy. Both are win-wins. Besides, a habit that is over 15years in the making is hard to break.
"What's wrong with your wrist?" House's voice asks breaking through Wilson's thoughts.
Wilson looked down at his hands. He wasn't even aware that he was rubbing his wrist. "The cold." He answered succinctly knowing House would understand. The ache in his wrist was still there though ever so slightly diminished from this morning. He looked at his watch. "Well, I have to go, I have a patient in 15minutes." He said just as House's pager went off.
House nodded but otherwise didn't say anything as he sped off in the direction of his patient's room.
Wilson sighed before depositing both of their trash in the trash cans and heading for the diagnostic department to grab a quick cup of coffee before he began another hour of patient visits followed by an hour of paperwork and emails followed by an hour of clinic and another hour of patient rounds. God he hated Mondays!
At 6 o'clock pm Wilson walked into his office thoroughly exhausted and aching. The constant writing, signing his signature and typing caused the ache in his wrist to increase from a dull throb to a sharp stab every time he moved it. His ankle and back had joined the chorus of cries of pain as well, not liking all the walking and standing he had been doing over the last few hours.
Wilson groaned when he spotted a couple of blue folders on his desk, indicating a cancer patient, with bright orange sticky tabs sticking out of them, indicating consults. All he wanted to do is go home and collapse on the couch, cuddling up with House. However he knew that he wouldn't be able to ignore the last minute consults, if he did he'd be thinking about them all night anyways, so he grudgingly grabbed them but decided to lie down on the couch instead of sitting as his desk.
His assistant had been kind, and smart, enough to place his recorder on top of the files so that he could easily lie on couch and dictate his notes. She was a perceptive one that Julia, that's for sure.
Just as he'd finished his last file, House walked into the office and sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk opposite the couch. He had been moving easier than early which made the blanket of worry that always covered Wilson to lift slightly.
"Why are you still here?" House asked.
"Why are you?" Wilson countered without answering House's question.
"Got a patient that might bleed out soon, thought it'd be fun to watch." House quipped. Translation – "Patient's in surgery and I'm waiting to see if anything goes wrong."
"Ah. I had some last minute consults that I wanted to finish with before I left." Wilson replied while pinching the bridge of his nose, all the reading had given him a headache.
House eyed him critically before nodding. "You going to go home?"
"Yeah, I think I will. I'll get some dinner going." Wilson said while nodding. He stood up and started gathering his things. He finished and leaned against the front of his desk, looking at House. "Do you need anything?"
"Nope." House responded after drawing in a deep breath. He stood up and stepped closer to Wilson, longing and desire radiating off of him.
Before House had a chance to lean in, Wilson grabbed him and pulled him in for a deep, passionate kiss full of desire. When the need to breathe caught up with Wilson, he pulled away, both of them panting and their eyes filled with a fire that a river of water couldn't kill.
House smirked. "See you soon." He said huskily, his voice sounding more like a threat than a promise. Then he left to go watch the surgery.
Wilson pulled up to the curb outside their apartment half an hour later, anxiously awaiting for when House got home to fulfill the silent threat that wasn't threatening at all. He climbed out of his warm car, shivering when the below zero temperature seeped into his bones.
He walked toward the apartment, thinking about what to make for dinner and what they'd do afterwards when he felt his left foot slide out from under him and his right ankle twist painfully when his right leg tried to keep the rest of his body balance, causing his right knee to twist excruciatingly and pop. His arms flailed in midair giving a spectator the image of a cartoon character trying to fly while in midair.
Wilson cried out, the sound echoing outside sounding more like a scream, as he hit the ground hard. Thankfully he had the presence of mind to hold his head tightly to his chest to help prevent it from hitting the cold concrete.
He laid there in excruciating agony while he took a silent inventory of his injuries. His neck and back throbbed in time with his heartbeat. His chest hurt from having the wind knocked about of him and he's fairly certain he'll have some beautiful bruises on his right side. His knee was pure uninterrupted agony; he had felt and heard the sickening POP but he didn't think it was worse than a dislocation. The pain in his ankle was quickly joining the pain in his knee. Just Great! He thought.
Wilson heard the sounds of footprints running up to him. "Sir, are you alright?" a kind voice asked full of concern.
As much as he wanted to, he couldn't bring himself to say yes. His knee needed to be popped back in place at the least and there was no way he was letting anyone besides a trained doctor try. "No. Call an ambulance." He said while panting, trying to keep from throwing up what little food he'd managed to eat for lunch and a gallon of coffee. "Ask them to take me to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital." He informed the young lady. This wasn't going to be fun!
AN: The part where Wilson prefers people to walk on his left side is my quirk. I'm left-handed and prefer it if people walk to my left, leaving me to walk on their right. Please review and let me know what you think!
