Title: Redefine Me
Fandom: House, MD
Characters: Lisa Cuddy, Greg House, James Wilson
Prompt: 038. Touch
Word Count: 2577
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The pain is always there--it's a constant. Never ending, never fading, it lasts for endless hours. It's what defines House, and Wilson and Cuddy try to redefine what makes this man who he is.
Author's Notes: Not really angst, not really fluffy. More of a general House in pain! Fic with a dash of subtext (but the subtext should really be surface text). Also, I threw in some humor for good purposes. It's dry though because it's been hung out on the line for the past few days. Oh yeah, and threesome? (Almost maybe.)

Her fingers are gentle as she runs them along rough and sunken skin in his thigh. Brushing the pained area with feather-light grace, she tries to ease the pain--release it, absorb it, destroy it.

Another hand is running in smooth circles on his back as she continues with her work. This hand is larger, yet gentle all the same. It kneads out the knots of tension from the daily work, unwinding tightened muscles and loosening the firmness beneath the skin to allow the stress to flow out of his system.

He remains silent as his comrades work on him--Cuddy on his leg and Wilson on his back and shoulders. It's like routine to them, it's all second nature. He goes to them silently, eyes and body speaking volumes of the stress the pain is putting him through. They don't say anything, just knowing that he needs them to be with him because it's going to be a hard one, a long one, a pain-filled one.

Her brows furrow when he lets out a grunt as a particularly sensitive spot is hit with a gentle thumb. The hand on his back stops abruptly in alarm, but House waves it off when he makes contact with their questioning gazes.

"It's all right, don't stop."

Hesitantly, the hand on his thigh starts working again in kneading the flesh while the hand on the back doesn't start up immediately. Instead, the hand leaves, making House turn his head to stare at the man questioningly.

Wilson pours a cup of coffee and hands it over to House, who takes it eagerly. The oncologist waits for the man to take a sip, and takes it back to place the cup onto the coffee table. He replaces the coffee pot and brings out another pot, and this time pours hot water into another little mug. He takes a spoon and stirs several times before handing this mug to Cuddy, who stops her work to take a small sip.

She hands to back with a murmur of thanks. With a soft grunt, she pushes herself off the floor and drops onto the couch beside House. She inhales, then exhales loudly. Blue eyes look over House critically. "How is it now?"

House merely shrugs. "It's a bit better, but it's just going to come right back."

She nods. "At least some of the pain is gone for now. You'll be able to sleep."

The man scoffs as Wilson sits on the other side. "Yes, like a baby."

"House," Wilson speaks with a reprimanding tone.

The other man rolls his eyes and makes a grabbing motion for his coffee, which Wilson grabs and hands to the man with little hesitation.

"I keep telling you that I just need to up the dosage. More pain, more pills."

"More pills aren't going to necessarily ease the pain," Cuddy breaks in sternly. "They can cause more problems. So don't even go there."

House stares at Cuddy before turning to eye Wilson, who shakes his head. "She's right."

"The problem is--she's always right." House sips the coffee, loudly smacking his lips when he finishes. "Is there ever a time when she's wrong?" There is a sarcastic air to his tone that results with her furrowing her brow and glaring at him and Wilson merely rises from the couch with eyes wide, shoulders tense from the impending argument.

"I think I should head out now," He planted his hands on his hips before eying House. "Will you be all right?"

House wants to say no, he won't. He doesn't want to stay alone at night with the searing lightning that shoots through his leg. He doesn't want to have to get up from bed every hour and end up pacing, clack clack clack of his cane echoing as he tries to walk out of the cycle. He wants somebody to be there, he wants someone who will be with him to comfort, to ease, and erase.

Yet he is House, and is already defined. He is a bastard to all, and unwilling to take company. He doesn't need help, he just needs his pills. House and pills, pills and House. It's textbook.

More pain, more pills. It's simple.

House shrugs noncommittally, raising eyebrows from Cuddy and Wilson. He notices and rolls his eyes. "I'm a big boy, mommy and daddy, I can take care of myself."

Wilson gave House a look that clearly read that he didn't believe him for a minute but wasn't going to comment on it. Cuddy merely pursed her lips as she rose from the couch and stretched her arms out behind her. She cocked her head slightly at the man. "Are you sure? You could barely make it out of the hospital earlier."

"I'm fine."

"No, he's not," Wilson began to tug off his tie, fingers clenching the bob and pulling it away from his throat as he looped it over his head, tossing the dull gray item onto the coffee table carelessly. "He's still in pain, he's just being a jackass and won't admit he needs help. I'm staying the night."

"Wilson--"

"Don't start lecturing me, House," Wilson unbuttoned the sleeves to his work top and rolled them up to his elbows as he planted himself on the couch. "You know I won't listen. I'm just like you."

House snorted. "You are nothing like me, Jimmy. First of all, you care too much. Second of all, you're practically a whore."

The other man glared and Cuddy turned away to hide a smile. She pretended she was glancing at her watch for a moment before she turned back to the other men. "Is there enough room for another?"

House raised a quizzical brow. "Another--what?"

"Another house guest, I'm staying the night. I don't want you beating anybody tonight with your cane. Especially Wilson, I need him. Your neighbors are not as important, but I don't need you beating them either." She began to unbutton her top jacket slowly while she toed off her high heeled shoes. House made a show as if he were trying to peak into her shirt or sneak a squeeze. Cuddy gave him a bitter smile, which was pinched in the corners in irritation. "House," she gave a warning in the form of his name.

He took the message and looked away with annoyance. "You two don't need to stay the night. I'm fine, really. The couch is quite comfortable."

"I'm sure it is," She looked over to Wilson who made a face while shaking his head. "Which is why we're going to drag you to your bed. Now, be a good boy and let mommy and daddy tuck you in."

"Will mommy and daddy read me a bedtime story?" House asked with sarcasm lacing each syllable distastefully. He was tempted to swat at them both when they took a hold of him from under his arms and lifted him from the couch, balancing him on his good leg.

"Daddy says let's wait and see," was Wilson's simple reply as he looped House's arm over his shoulder. He pulled House close to bring most of the crippled doctor's weight onto him, leaving Cuddy with the job of making sure the man didn't trip over himself.

House grunted when a sharp pain ran through his leg when they took their first step. His leg started trembling, threatening to give out without warning.

Wilson tightened his grip on the man. "See? You can't handle being alone tonight. Here you were five minutes ago saying you fine and now you can barely even get off your ass. I'm staying. I don't need to have to come in tomorrow morning to find you dead on the floor because you fell and smashed your skull off the coffee table."

House let out a loud snort and growled deep in his throat, all the while leveling glares with everything in his apartment. Stupid table, how dare you stand? Stupid television, how dare you get all the good things? Stupid couch, why must you be so comfortable?

The trip to the bedroom was uneventful for the most part. At one point House attempted to break away and nearly slammed Wilson into the door frame, receiving a hard smack on the back of the head from Cuddy, who went into complete lecture mode on friendship, responsibility, and bedtime.

He wasn't really thrown onto the bed, but more like--tossed gently. He winced when a hand grabbed the hem of the shirt he wore and started to yank it off him. He held up his arms and allowed whoever it was to finish their task.

Whoever it was wasn't all that gentle with it and nearly ripped his head off in the process. House grumbled all the while, only to be ignored by both guests. Wilson actually offered a sheepish shrug and the corners of his lips quirked up when Cuddy began to tug at House's pants.

"Take them off." Her order was crisp and direct, leaving no room for hesitation or question. Her hands on curved hips and the scowl was apparently supposed to give her an air of authority and strike fear into the heart of all opposing forces.

House merely wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Off you say? Now I'm all for some bed games, but you know how shy Wilson is--he'll start blushing."

Wilson gave his own scowl and Cuddy blushed instead. She sputtered, waving her arms around. "No, House! You know what I mean! Take your pants off so I can put on a clean pair you moron!" She huffed, throwing the socks he had been wearing at Wilson. "You do this. I'm going to get a drink."

She left in a flurry of anger waves, leaving Wilson to fend for himself. The man sighed, eying House critically. "Why do you always cause problems for her?"

House shrugged. "Why not?"

"She's got enough on her plate as it is." Wilson reasoned, seating himself on the edge of the mattress and began to slowly pull the pants off.

House rolled his eyes. "Then she should clear it off, make room for dessert. Those vegetables can't stay forever."

"No, but you are that crack in the precious dish. No matter how many times she tries to fix it, you're still going to be seen and it will eventually get bigger and the whole plate will break. But before that happens, a chip will appear and that will stain, and so on and so forth, and why are we talking about plates?" Wilson managed to free one leg and started on the other. "I thought we were talking about Cuddy."

"Apparently, according to you, Cuddy is the dinner host and I'm the plate that ruins it all. So typical. What are you, the table cloth?"

"Who is a table cloth?" Cuddy reentered, holding three shot glasses and a large case of scotch. "I don't want any table clothes in here. If there are any, they had better leave now."

Wilson eyed the glasses. "What--"

"Oh, room service, how lovely, I'll take a scotch." House held out his hands and squeezed them rhythmically in a 'gimme my damn drink woman' motion.

Cuddy grinned and placed the glasses on the stand, filling each of them. "I think, that if any of us are going to spend time with this miserable bastard, we all need a drink to start the night off. Tea won't do and coffee's not strong enough. So scotch will do." She handed a glass to House and turned to Wilson. "Neh?"

The man stared at her some more with a question along the lines of 'How much did you have while you were gone' ready to be spat out before he hesitantly accepted, taking a sip. When the taste hit his tongue, he tipped the glass and downed it all at once.

Cuddy smiled in satisfaction, refilling his glass before she crawled onto the bed and laid next to House. She filled his glass once more and opted to start drinking right out of the actual case instead.

Wilson nearly dropped his glass. "Lisa? Are you--are you all right?"

"Hm? Oh yes, fine. I just--haven't had a chance to just relax like this in a long time. In a way it's all wrong, it's indecent, and it's stupid. But it's not like I'll have the time or luxury to go out and relax in a hot tub or in a spa. But if I think about it--I like this way better." She took a small sip and smacked her lips happily. "I've got my two favorite doctors and I'm in a house that feels comfortable, and I got time to relax. This is good enough for me." She reached across House and patted the empty space beside the man. "Come on, Wilson, join us."

He sputtered. "Join you? There's barely enough room for--"

"Oh, come now, Wilson," House scooted closer to Cuddy and made more room. "There's plenty. Get your ass over here."

Wilson frowned. With strong reluctance, he made his way around the bed and carefully placed his drink on the night stand. He started to slowly sit down when a strong arm grabbed him around the waist, yanking him down roughly.

Wilson grunted with a gasp as House dragged him down so that his face was being held close to his chest and was practically thrown over his lap. The man below him blinked rapidly and made eye contact with Cuddy, who let out a soft laugh as she placed the scotch onto the floor.

A second later, she threw herself halfway over House and had one arm around his back and the other around Wilson. "Now boys, don't misbehave. I'm mostly speaking to House, just to let you know, Wilson."

Wilson waved a hand meekly, face still being squeezed into a chest. "Yeah, well, okay. Can you let me go, House?"

"No, I don't think I will." His voice was taunting, yet light. "I think I want to stay like this all night long."

"Can I at least get comfortable?"

There was a silence from House, and then there was some gentle shifting. He moved his arm and attempted to help him up. "Get comfortable, but don't plan on leaving any time soon."

House allowed Wilson to rearrange himself so he was able to stretch out better, but in doing so he was practically hanging off the bed. Sheepishly, he looked to House, who raised an eyebrow to him. Sighing, Wilson scooted so close that he was practically cuddling. House didn't mind, in fact, he enjoyed the contact and wrapped an arm around the man's shoulders while wrapping the other around Cuddy, who was already starting to doze off.

"You two--" his sarcasm was thick yet light. "--so cute. You could be my kids the way you're so close right now."

"I'd rather not," Cuddy sang out. "I'm quite content with the parents that I have, thank you."

Wilson merely smiled and hesitantly rested a head on House's shoulder. Lids were growing heavy, and pretty soon his brown eyes were hidden behind closed lids, breathing deepening.

Cuddy was already out by the time House felt his own eyelids grow heavy. The last thing he noticed before he finally drifted to sleep were the numbers of his alarm clock and the relief in his thigh.

Realization slowly overcame him when he realized that he wasn't in pain.

Redefined.