Title: If You Can't Beat 'Em...
Author: Arwen Jade Kenobi
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine. No profit. Just for fun. Please don't sue.
Characters/Pairings: House/Wilson
Summary: Wilson had not opened his eyes all day
Author's Note: Response to 100situations's prompt #40: Wake
Wilson had not opened his eyes all day. House had poked, prodded, shouted, shook, pinched, slapped and done every other annoyingly loud thing he could think of to no avail. Wilson had barely reacted, only offering a grunt or a twitch but not opening his eyes. Wilson was by no means a light sleeper but rousing him was usually an easy enough task. This was an anomaly, anomalies bugged House.
It really wasn't that big of a mystery though, House had to admit. All Hell had broken loose in the oncology department this week so it was no wonder Wilson was sleeping so deeply. Several of his patients had all decided to have life threatening emergencies, there was a malpractice suit against three of his underlings and he was trying to get several of his patients, along with some that weren't his, into drug trials. Not to mention this was all on top of the regular duties as a department head, transplant committee and board member that Wilson dealt with on a daily basis.
Before last night House hadn't seen Wilson in three days. He had rarely been in his office and whenever he was he was either on the phone or with someone. Usually House had no problem interrupting Wilson's appointments, but after seeing his friend's reaction when Cameron had stuck her head in to offer him a sandwich he'd decided to stay well out of the way. Cameron still hadn't seemed to have regained all of her hearing.
House had heard rumours to the effect that Wilson was working on no sleep, or at least very little sleep, from various hospital employees. It was true that he hadn't been home in those three days but House hadn't really believed the stories until the oncologist had finally come home the night before looking like he'd just crawled out of his own grave. House had given him a critical look and made some comment but Wilson hadn't given him any form of acknowledgement, instead staggering right to the bedroom. House had leaned against the doorway and watched clinically as Wilson mechanically stripped down to his boxers, tossing his clothes into a corner without a thought or glance. House was fairly sure Wilson had fallen asleep before his head had hit the pillow.
The phone rang at that second. Cuddy's demands to know if Wilson had made it home in one piece had filled the apartment along with her orders that Wilson be kept at home the next day. House had headed back to the living room, picked up the phone long enough to tell their boss that Wilson had made it and had gone back to his evening routine. He'd eventually gone to bed around midnight; Wilson had snuggled up to him and had thrown an arm over him but did not wake. Still wasn't awake when House woke up at noon and still wasn't awake now.
This was not how House had wanted to spend his day off.
He'd had tried to do what he always did on his days off. He'd made it to the next level on his latest video game and had satisfied his daily dose of soap operas. He'd made coffee at some point and had brought it into the bedroom, wafting the smell into Wilson's face in an attempt to rouse the sleeping beauty. It appeared that not even a cup of coffee strong enough to peel paint off walls could wake James Wilson up. It was that fact more than anything that had driven home the point that Jimmy really i was /i exhausted and caused House to decide to abandon his attempts and exercise a well known adage.
So here he was, with a stack of medical journals and a half eaten sandwich on the nightstand, in bed at ten at night with Wilson's arm once again thrown over his chest. House set the journal down to take a good look at his lover. Wilson was still lying on his stomach, head facing House's side of the bed, as he had been every other time House had stuck his head in. He had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that it was comforting to see Wilson looking relaxed and peaceful instead of stressed and damn near murderous.
"Mmmph."
House watched as heavy lids blinked open and eventually focussed on him. A sleepy smile was flashed his way and it took a fair amount of will power to keep his own mouth in a firm line. "'Bout damn time you woke up," he grumbled. "You've been sleeping all day."
Wilson grunted and moved so his head was resting on House's chest. "Time?" he asked roughly.
"Just after eleven…at night," House replied. He tossed the journal to the floor and his fingers were carding through Wilson's hair before he had a chance to realize it. Wilson made a contented sound and closed his eyes again, but House wasn't going to have any of that.
"You slept through my day off," he complained in an unnecessarily loud voice.
Wilson eyes shot open and he winced slightly at either the complaint or the noise. Possibly both. "Sorry," he offered quietly. "Why didn't you wake me up?"
"You wouldn't wake up!"
"I'm surprised you didn't try and have sex with me or something."
"The thought crossed my mind."
"Now that doesn't surprise me." The last two words came out as a long and loud yawn. His eyes closed again.
"I can't believe you're still tired," House said incredulously, only allowing the surprise to enter his voice for the sake of volume.
"Me neither," Wilson yawned again. His eyes remained shut. "I think you're going to lose me soon."
House stopped his threading caresses and used both arms to pull Wilson closer. He grunted a bit but made no sigh of opening his eyes or objecting to being manhandled. "Na," House said dismissively. "I'll hit the hay too and I'll stalk you in your dreams."
"That's frightening," Wilson murmured.
"What if it's a nice dream?"
"Your definition of nice is also frightening."
"You're no fun," House grumbled but it was no use: Wilson was asleep again. House rolled his eyes and reached over to shut off the light. He wrapped his arms tightly around his lover again and shut his eyes as that old adage once again crossed his mind:
If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.