Chapter 2:
Wilson was just ushering his latest patient out when the balcony door burst open, the April breeze swishing in. Not needing to turn around to know it was House, he closed the door. His next patient hadn't arrived yet, so maybe he could quickly appease his insufferable friend and shove him out the door. Not that it was likely, but a man can hope can't he?
"House, you do know that I'm busy right?" He asked while he made his way behind his desk and sat down. "I don't have time to entertain you right now."
"Damn, I paid for tickets and everything." House mock pouted.
A roll of the eyes was all that Wilson gave him as he reviewed his next patient's file. Maybe if he just ignored House, the scruffy, taciturn doctor would leave.
No such luck. "I was thinking-" the diagnostician began while sitting in the chair across the desk but Wilson cut him off.
"House, I really don't have time for this." He said. As if to testify to that statement, a knock sounded on the door. "You need to leave, now." He hissed as he went to the door. He opened it to reveal his next patient, Elizabeth Ertle. "Good afternoon, Ms. Ertle." He greeted warmly, "How are you today?"
A sarcastic snort erupted from inside the office and Wilson only had a split second warning before his friend said, "Are you kidding? With that boob job, I'd be seeing a doctor too!"
The insulted look that traversed over his patient's face only added to Wilson's frustration. "House, leave. Now." He growled, pointing towards the balcony door. Turning back to Ms. Ertle, he apologized, "I'm sorry, please ignore him."
His luck must've run out completely since he was suddenly aware of House standing next to him gesturing at his patient like she was on exhibit in front of some plastic surgery class. "Now, if you'll notice here," he said pointing to a breast, "this one has a slight sag-"
"House," Wilson warned.
"-while this one," House finished pointing to the other breast, "is perfectly perky; does she think if she wore more ruffs then you wouldn't notice?" He mocked unflinchingly.
"House!" Wilson snapped, a look of horror crossing his face.
"Dr. Wilson," Ms. Ertle interrupted curtly, "Maybe I should reschedule…"
"No, Dr. House was just leaving." Wilson said, his tone soft and gentle while addressing his patient and growling while he was telling House to leave. He was beyond furious with his friend. It was one thing to insult him, he was used to it, but it was something completely different to insult his patients.
"It's fine. I'm not feeling well anyways." Ms. Ertle said tightly, "I'll go and reschedule with your secretary."
"Elizabeth," he called after her retreating back. He could tell that she was upset by what House had said and he didn't want her leaving with House's words echoing through her mind. Wilson felt a tightening pain spread through his sternum, reminding him to control his breathing as he spun around to chew out his friend. "What the hell was that?" He exploded while slamming the door shut.
"That," House began as he gestured toward the door with his cane, "was called 'heckling'. I'm surprised you didn't know that since you've been on the receiving end of it for about, oh, sixteen years or so." The diagnostician answered, squinting at the ceiling while he "estimated" how long he and Wilson had been friends.
"She didn't do anything to you." Wilson argued, waving towards the door with his right hand. He inwardly winced at the weakness of his own argument knowing that it was hardly a valid point seeing as that had never stopped the older doctor before.
"She assaulted me with bad breasts." House retorted aghast.
"She has breast cancer you ass!" Wilson exclaimed gesturing wildly with his hands. Fiery pain shot through his ribs and back making him clench his teeth and wince.
"What's wrong with you?" House asked mockingly, narrowing his eyes and pretending to scan Wilson. He already thought he knew what was wrong but he wanted to hear it from the oncologist himself and therefore needed to pretend ignorance.
"Nothing, I pulled something in my shoulder last night." Wilson dismissed as he moved from the space between his desk and the door to behind his desk. "Don't change the subject." Wilson warned, pointing his finger at House. "You had NO right to insult my patient."
"Oh please, she'll come back tomorrow and you'll apologize profusely for that 'Jerk Dr. House'. Now, let's get back on the right subject." House dismissed, leaning on his cane like he was in a Broadway number. "Why have you been wincing all morning?" He paused giving Wilson time to answer but continued quickly, knowing his friend wouldn't. "No? Well, how about you tell me why you've been limping? Or why you're guarding your left side?"
"House, just forget it. I'm fine."
"Yes, that must be why you can't extend your arm more than a couple of centimeters. I forgot that "fine" people have that problem ALL the time!" House quipped sarcastically, growing more frustrated by the other man's insistence on lying to him.
"House, please just drop it." Wilson implored with surrendering hands. But House didn't listen and Wilson wondered why he ever thought the other man would when passed experience has taught him otherwise. Without a word, the diagnostician gracefully rounded the desk, closing in the space between them, and used his can to poke Wilson's left side, right in the spot where the broken ribs resided.
A cry of pain escaped the oncologist's mouth before he could stop it and Wilson hugged his left arm tighter to his side, trying to curl inward to guard the injury more, as white splotches erupted clouding his vision. Before he knew what was happening, House had pulled up his office chair and was unbuttoning his dress shirt.
"House," Wilson protested, wheezing painfully, while trying to bat away the hands that were currently trying to lift his undershirt.
"Shut up and let me see." came the irritated and gruff reply as gentle fingers pulled the white Hans shirt up to reveal Wilson's previously well kept secret. Wilson heard the sharp intake of breath, something akin to a growl and then the room went deathly still.
RING …. RING …. RING
Wilson's office phone broke the silence. He looked down at the Caller ID to see if it was someone he could ignore. FRONT DESK 5066 it read. CRAP! "Yeah." He said as casually as he could.
"Is everything alright Dr. Wilson?" His assistant asked. "Ms. Ertle came back and asked to be rescheduled. She said something about you being in a meeting with an ass doctor; I assume Dr. House is in your office?"
Wilson let out a small chuckle, wincing at the spike of pain it brought. Oh how she knew him well! "Yeah, he is. Could you do me a favor and reschedule my next," he looked down at his calendar, "three appointments? I think I may be busy until then."
Sascha's warm laugh filled the phone, "Of course doctor. Let me know if you need anything."
"I will. Thanks." He answered just as warmly before he hung up the phone and set it to forward all calls to voicemail. He still had the smile on his face when he looked back at House, the smile fading when he saw the blue eyes staring at him angrily.
"Take your shirts off, I want to get a better look." House demanded quietly as he helped slip the undershirt over Wilson's head and off his injured side. "Who did this?" He asked, disgust filling his voice.
"No one." Wilson lied. His brows furrowed in confusion as to why he was still lying to his friend; especially such an obvious lie. Perhaps, he hoped, House will have a bout of unnatural gullibility!
"Really?" House asked as he palpitated the deep bruising around his ribs with gentle fingers. "Because these look like fist sized bruises but who do we know that has that small of a fist?"
"What makes you think you or I know them?" Wilson countered, wincing at the pressure House applied to a tender spot. "How do you know I wasn't attacked?"
"Wilson, do I look like that big of an idiot?" House replied sarcastically. So much for the bout of gullibility, Wilson sighed. "Half these bruises are a few weeks old; this was no attack by a stranger." He summed as he moved on to Wilson's back, wincing in sympathy when he saw the dark purple bruising over his friend's shoulder; no wonder Wilson couldn't extend his arm.
"House, just leave it alone." Wilson implored, his cheeks blushing deep crimson. He could only imagine the disgust his friend felt at seeing his bare, bruised flesh and knowing that Wilson could have stopped it but didn't. Just another person he disappointed.
"No." The diagnostician replied a little more sharply than he meant. He investigated one of the gouges in Wilson's back, eyes growing ice blue with fury. He recognized that shape. "James, did Julie do this to you?"
Wilson felt his defenses slip at the sound of his first name combined with the pure sincere concern he heard in his friend's voice. House never called him by his first name unless it was something important; it was his way of letting the oncologist know that he was serious and it was time to stop lying. "It's not her fault."
"I didn't ask if it was her fault, I asked if she did this to you." House retorted, turning his friend around to face him. Wilson's soft chocolate brown eyes met his and then dropped to the floor, giving House his answer.
"It's not her fault." Wilson reiterates. "I know the rules and I choose to ignore them."
"The rules?" House sneers. "Pray, do tell what ARE the rules?"
Wilson flinched at his tone, knowing the mocking was meant at him. "Nothing, it's nothing. Can we just ignore this, please?" He begs, gently putting his shirts back on.
As he moves, a rainbow of coloring catches House's attention. "Wait." He says as he holds out a hand to gently still Wilson's movements. He pulls up the desk chair again and sits himself down in it, softly pulling down the belted pants and waistband of Wilson's underwear. Most would think it a weird movement but knowing that both men had been through worse with each other, neither thought anything of it.
The sickeningly beautiful array of bruising that meets House's eyes on his friend's hip draws out a feral growl. "You are not going back there."
"House-" Wilson starts.
"No Wilson, no arguments. I don't care what you think you've done, you have done nothing to deserve this." House replies softly but definitely. "Tonight, you WILL be going home with me and you will NOT call Julie and let her know."
"I have to call and let her know, otherwise it's worse-!" Wilson slaps a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide in shock. Damn it! He hadn't meant to say so much.
House, who had been heading for the balcony door, spun around on his heel. "Are you seriously telling me that she beats you for spending time with me?" He demands incredulously.
Wilson winces at the hint of mockery he hears in House's voice but doesn't respond; he doesn't think his voice would work right now if he tried. Pain echoes throughout his side and chest as his breathing picks up in an effort not to let the tears of shame that are pooling in his eyes fall. He plops down into his desk chair and painfully places his face in his hands, breathing out a heavy sigh of emotion.
House watches his friend deflate with practiced passiveness. He feels his heart squeeze painfully when a tear falls from the other man's cheek and onto his pants but keeps his face a stony mask. He wants nothing more than to run over to Wilson, cradle him in his arms and whisper words of comfort while the oncologist releases all the emotions that he has been hoarding inside. But that isn't him; it's not what he does.
He opts instead for walking back over to his friend and placing a gentle hand on his uninjured shoulder. He tries to find the right words to say, something to bring the abused man some comfort but all he comes up with is, "You will not be going back there ever again."
They must have been good enough because he soon feels the shaking of Wilson's shoulders ease and hears him trying to quell his emotions with deep, painful breaths.
"Thanks." Wilson whispers roughly while trying to dry his eyes.
House nods his answer then gives a gentle squeeze when he realizes that Wilson can't see him nod. "You better get back to your bald-headed circus freaks. Wouldn't want one of them to die, would we?" He jokes earning a laugh from the other man.
Wilson checked the time. "I've still got another hour until my next appointment."
"Perfect! Lunchtime." House inserts, grinning suggestively. Red rimmed brown eyes meet warm cerulean blue; gratefulness, happiness, pain, fear and apprehension swirling through them, almost knocking the air out of the diagnostician's lungs with how strongly present they were.
"Fine, but you're buying." Wilson concedes lightly.
"But Mom," House whines, "there's no fun in that."
"No," the oncologist replies as he slowly stands up, "but it does help to ensure that I can buy dinner for tonight."
House thought about commenting on Wilson's daily allowance but, given the circumstances, thought better of it. "Fine." He sighed dramatically, following the other man out the door.
AN: There ya go, the second chapter. I hope that you all are liking it so far! Please Review and give me your opinions!