Title: Superman's Cape

Summary: Wilson gets into a bar fight and wakes up with House singing to him.

Rating: PG

Spoiler: None really. It's after Cuddy becomes a mom so after season 5 I think?

Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing.

Author's Note: Written for Camp Sick!Wilson's Picture Challenge.

Wilson slowly returned to consciousness, his reward being a voice singing, "You don't tug on Superman's cape. You don't spit into the wind. You don't pull the mask off the ol' Lone Ranger and you don't mess around with Jim."

He groaned when he recognized the voice that sang cheerily from a chair beside his bed. He really didn't want to deal with him right now.

"Well good morning Jimmy!" House greeted cheerily having heard the groan that had escaped through Wilson's lips.

Wilson groaned again, this time from pain, turning his head towards the voice. "House what are you doing here?"

"Why Jimmy, I'm hurt. Why wouldn't I be here when my best bud is in the hospital?"

"Because if you're here then Cuddy could pull you into clinic duty," Wilson offered weakly. God he hurt! His head pounded horribly, reminding him of a migraine on steroids. He brought a hand up to his head only to have his movements restricted by an immobilizer and pain.

He whimpered pathetically as the pain traveled from his shoulder, seared through his side and radiated into his legs. "Ow."

"Quit moving," House commanded with an annoyed eye roll. "You're not seriously injured but the few injuries you have will hurt for awhile. I suppose that's expected when you think you're superman and get into a bar fight with three guys who are thirty times bigger than you are."

"House I'm in too much pain to play with you right now. Go torture your team until I feel better."

The playful smirk in House's eyes softened little by little at Wilson's admission of just how much he was hurting but it didn't go away entirely. "You think I'm joking? Shall I get you a mirror so you can see just how ugly you are?"

Wilson gave House a glare, the look helped along by the raccoon eyes on his face. "You really do know how to make a man feel good don't you?"

"It's my specialty."

The oncologist ignored the smart ass next to him in favor for reaching of raising the head of his bed. In retrospect it probably wasn't his best idea. Pain raced through the nerves of his side as his, what felt like, broken ribs protested the movement.

"Here," House offered, holding out a paper cup.

Wilson raised an eyebrow, wincing as it pulled on the bruised muscles and skin. He took the cup then looked at House, "Unlike you, I can't just dry swallow these."

With a roll of his eyes, House reached out and poured a cup of water. "Baby."

Wilson gave a breathy chuckle as he stiffly reached out to grab the liquid, tossed the pills into his mouth then downed the water. He cleared his throat afterwards to help clear the phlegm, dryness and the taste of Tylenol 3 from his mouth. "Thanks."

House shrugged off the thanks, "It was for my own benefit. Looking at you makes me hurt."

"And giving me something for the pain helps with that how? You still have to look at me."

"Don't remind me," House said with a fake grimace of displeasure. "Anyways, I'm sure Cuddy would torture me if I let her star oncologist remain in pain when I could do something about it."

"I thought you'd like that."

House turned his face upwards in concentration. "Hm, good point. But only if there were chains and whips involved."

"I think that can be arranged," Cuddy's voice interrupted from the doorway, "though I may have to let Cameron do the punishing, I'm busy."

"Well if you're not going to be the one doing it, I'm not interested," House replied miffed, his brain having always worked much quicker than everyone else's.

"Hey Cuddy," Wilson greeted with as warm a smile as he could muster.

"Wilson, how are you feeling?" she asked, coming into the room and standing on the vacant side of his bed.

"Not as bad as I look apparently," he answered throwing a look in House's direction.

"Can I help it if you look like a raccoon that got ran over by a semi?" House defended with an eye roll. Wilson scoffed prompting House to continue, "Seriously do you want me to get you a mirror? You never did answer me from before."

"No I do not want you to get me a mirror," Wilson all but snapped in reply.

Cuddy stayed silent through her friends' conversation. She really didn't want to get into the argument by agreeing with House because though his observation wasn't necessarily nice, it was spot on.

She mentally took a step back to get a good look at her head of oncology.

Wilson sat stiffly in his bed, his posture so still that she thought he would break if he moved too quickly. His left arm lay in an immobilizer helping to keep his recently dislocated shoulder in place while it heals.

Through the flimsy hospital gown she could see the bandage which served to support his broken ribcage. Bruising snaked across his collar bone covering a hairline fracture in the appealing bone, the tendrils of blue and purple connecting to a bigger bruise that covered the injured shoulder.

Two black eyes served to give him the raccoon look but in different degrees. One was a standard black eye, the right side of his face not having taken a lot of abuse since the men had been right handed. His left however was a deep black that traveled down past his fractured cheek bone. The eye beneath the lid that was swollen shut was bloodshot thanks to the blows that had been hard enough to break several blood vessels in the organ.

Cuddy snapped back into reality quickly, her observations having happened in under thirty seconds. Wilson and House were still arguing in their usual tones of banter though she could tell that Wilson was growing more tired with every sentence he spoke.

"Well," she interrupted drawing both men's attention to herself. She placed a hand on Wilson's arm, knowing his shoulder was off limits, "I'll leave you to get some rest and House, you have clinic duty."

"But Mom," House whined like a five year old.

"No buts," Cuddy interjected sounding exactly like her mother did when she was five. She cringed at the mental image. Have I really turned into my mother already? "Wilson is injured and needs some rest, something you won't do if you stay here. Don't worry, he's being released later on and should be free to play with you then. AFTER you finish your clinic duty."

House and Wilson watched Cuddy walk out of his room then stand by the nurse's station, which stood conveniently across from his room, and wait for House to exit.

"I think I liked her before she became a mom," House grumbled petulantly.

Wilson chuckled, grimacing as pain raced through his injured side. "You'd better go before she decides to take away your toys too."

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in. Just wait until you're able to and she makes you make up your missed clinic hours. You won't be laughing then."

"House, on average I work my clinic hours and yours. Unlike you, I don't have a problem working the clinic."

"That's because you're a sap who thinks that all his good deeds will get him into heaven."

"Yeah, that or I just care."

House turned around in the doorway, giving his friend a smile. "Like I said, sap."

~fin~