Thanks so much for the reviews and comments! I love reading what you all think and your surmises and suggestions. They help nudge me to keep going. I apologize for taking so long to update - I recently remembered a love for a solitaire game called Addiction Solitaire and believe me, the it is named that for a reason! :) I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I thought a calming chapter was in order to give a break from all the hurting I've been doing to our favorite oncologist.


Chapter 7:

"I came to break you out," House announced as he walked in to Wilson's room, brown bag in hand.

"House, you know I'm getting released today," Wilson reminded.

The joyous smile faded from House's face, though it still remained in his eyes. "Sure, spoil my fun."

"Don't I always?" Wilson asked with a sly smile. His face wrinkled in confusion when he nodded towards the bag. "So what's in the bag?"

"The usual: duct tape, tooth paste, acid. All essential to the breaking out process," House gave a coy smile but proceeded to pull out a McGill tee and a loose pair of sweats. He tossed them onto the man in the bed who received them with great joy. "I figured you wouldn't want to walk," he cocked his head to the right and ran his eyes quickly over Wilson's injured leg, "or rather crutch out of the hospital in scrubs."

"Thanks," Wilson said, switching out his scrubs for the fresh clothing, "but actually I'll be riding."

At that moment Shannon came into the room pushing a wheelchair.

House gave one look at that wheelchair then sniffed at it. "Don't expect me to push you around."

"It's just til I get out of the hospital you know that. I'll have the lovely job of crutching around the loft all by myself," Wilson replied while offering a grateful smile at Shannon who had come over to help him change out of the scrub pants and into the sweat pants.

"I could have done that," House grumbled, not liking the fact that her hands where on Wilson.

"But then when would I have gotten a chance to see Doctor Wilson half naked?" Shannon retorted mischievously. The sly grin on her face changed to a wide, warm one when she noticed that Wilson had begun to blush.

"Oh I'm sure Wilson would have got around to you eventually," House remarked with a smile.

"Yes, it's too bad that you had to wait before he'd managed to screw every nurse in the hospital before he got around to you," Shannon said with a polite smile.

"Nah," House responded ignoring Wilson's indignant splutter, "he had to know what bad sex felt like at some point in time."

"As much as this circling each other and snapping at the other's legs is turning me on," Wilson interrupted annoyed," I'd really like to get out of here."

Shannon turned a beaming smile on her patient, "Of course." She went and grabbed the wheelchair, which had been abandoned by the door, and threw House a murderous glare before turning around with the beaming smile back on her face.

House watched closely as she took her sweet time helping Wilson lower into the chair. He watched as her hand lingered a little too long on his friend's shoulders, massaging small, gentle circles into the tight muscles. Jealousy and anger flourished within him like a thorny rose as he saw her hands travel slowly up from the leg she helped raise to the thigh.

The touches hadn't been that long really but House saw them for what they were – provocative, predatory, and a challenge.

Deciding that it was best to get her away from Wilson as quickly as possible, House came up behind the chair practically pushing Shannon out of the way as he did.

"I thought you weren't going to push me," Wilson responded confused.

"I need a good workout," House responded lamely, "I haven't had sex in days."

Shannon walked swiftly beside Wilson's chair, her pace easily matching House's. He could tell that she wanted to say something but couldn't manage to find the words.

She waited patiently as Wilson got into House's car. After grabbing the wheelchair she leaned in, "Good bye Doctor Wilson. If you need help with a patient, let me know."

Wilson sat blank for a bit before he shook the creepy feeling from his mind. "Uh, thank you. I will."

House slammed the door shut after making sure that Wilson was in the car. He didn't like Shannon's closeness to Wilson and he could tell that the oncologist wasn't so sure about it either.

Shannon offered him an eye roll then proceeded to walk away. If House could have seen her face he would have seen the triumphant smile that had crossed it followed by a deviously cunning look. Yes, she had a plan and now she needed to wait it out.


Wilson slowly made his way into the loft, thankful for the brief break that the elevator ride had afforded. If you had never used crutches in your life, you'd never know just how much of a workout they were. Between depending heavily on your arms to support you and your one good leg to lift and hold your body weight, it was what most would consider a full body exercise.

He unlocked the loft while leaning heavily on the grey supports then began making his way in. Not even caring to dump his coat, Wilson headed straight for the very inviting couch.

House followed closely behind his friend more than ready to catch him should the need arise. While he knew that yesterday had in fact been an accident he didn't exactly want a repeat either. He released a sight of both relief and anticipation as Wilson lowered himself onto the couch – And we're off!

The diagnostician knew that with Wilson being a new cripple he would be doing a lot of the cooking and caring. Truth be known, he didn't mind either but they would be taxing on his own crippled leg.

Gimping into the kitchen, House pulled two beers out of the refrigerator then put them in his jeans pockets (one on each side) so he could make his way over to the couch without having to worry about dropping one.

Wilson waved his beer away giving House a look that said, "You shouldn't mix beer with heavy medication, you know that!"

House rolled his eyes and ignored the message, popping the top of his own beer and downing it with the practice he received in college. While he was no longer on heavy medication, he was and he didn't have a problem with swallowing a couple, or six, vicodin with a glass of Scotch.

While House had been busy drinking his beer, Wilson had grabbed the remote and turned on Mythbusters just in time to see an explosion worthy of the scientists. Both House and Wilson let out appreciative "OH's" with smiles on their faces.

The credits rolled and another episode started announcing that they were doing JAWS myths which both men found interesting. Propping up limbs in comfortable places, they snuggled up for another exciting episode.

By their fifth episode House's stomach began rumbling making both men look to the clock. They were shocked to find that they had spent the last six hours watching TV and hadn't bothered doing anything else.

Both House and Wilson's legs were beginning to announce rather loudly that it was time for some pain meds and their bladders said that it they needed to be emptied.

After taking the appropriate meds, House headed to the bathroom first. He tossed his cell at Wilson who caught it easily and told him to press 4 then call. As Wilson soon found out, number four on House's phone was the Chinese take out place around the corner. He ordered their favorites and gave them his credit card number to pay before he hung up then made the slow and painful process of heading towards the bathroom.

They each had their own bathrooms attached to their bedrooms so Wilson had to pass his awfully tempting bed to relive his bladder. On the way back out to the living room, the oncologist found that he couldn't ignore the tempting call any further and promptly collapsed onto the soft pillow-top mattress.

Pain radiated from his injured leg up to his hip but he ignored it in favor of tossing a spare pillow to the bottom of the bed and placing the hurting limb on top of it. He breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes allowing the softness of the mattress and the familiarity of the sheets and comforter to curl around him in the protective swaddle of home.


The rest of the week passed in much the same way as that first day back. The two men hung out on the couch watching a lot of the Discovery Channel while eating nothing homemade.

Wilson's leg continued to heal but it was slow going and still quite painful.

The night before Cuddy's wedding, Wilson sat on his bed looking despairingly at a pair of his nice work slacks. He held a pair of silver scissors in his hand while he briefly pondered whether or not it was actually worth it to slit the left pant leg so he could get his bandaged limb into them.

On the one hand he hated ruining clothes in any way shape or form but on the other he was going to be heading back to work soon and would need a pair, or two, of slacks that he could wear. It was February for God sakes and he couldn't go out around in shorts all the time.

He bent down and picked up the mocha colored pants, cringing as the sound of shears through fabric echoed throughout the room.

"Please tell me you're destroying some of those hideous ties," House called out as he made his way into Wilson's room. He smiled when he saw what his friend was doing. "Well, it's not a tie but you're right, those pants were hideous."

Wilson scowled at House for a moment then turned back towards his task, taking a black pair into his hands and cutting them. "I'm making room for my leg to fit so that I have a nice pair of pants to wear at work."

"And at Cuddy's wedding tomorrow," House said knowing very well what the next day was.

"Yes," Wilson answered prissily, "which reminds me, are you going?"

"Like I said, I always like to crash a party," House answered a bit too sharply for the joke to reach its potential.

Wilson nodded, "It's kind of hard to crash a party that you're actually invited to."

"Minor details my good man."

Wilson nodded again. He set the scissors down on the bedside table then proceeded to lay his pants on an armchair which sat closely by. "What I meant was, are you going with me?"

Though the words sounded almost exactly the same, House heard the meaning behind them. It was as close as Wilson would come to bringing up a topic that they both silently agreed not to speak of.

He walked over to the side of the bed that Wilson sat on and proceeded to lower himself down next to his friend. Grabbing a slightly shaking hand, House used his spare to bring Wilson's focus to his own face. "Yes."

The answer had been simple enough but the relief that flooded through Wilson was enough that had he been standing he would have fallen onto the bed. A solitary tear trickled down his face but before he could swipe it away a calloused hand placed itself firmly on his cheek and used the thumb to brush it into nonexistence.

"Come on," House prompted gently, "let's get you to bed. You can worry about how pretty you'll be tomorrow."

House waited for Wilson to get comfortable in the bed before he climbed in as well. He smiled at the shocked expression on his friend's face but refused to acknowledge the shock and continued his slow shift in the bed until he was curled up and around Wilson.

He felt Wilson wiggle until the oncologist was closely snuggled in his arms. House let out a small rumble laughter escape before he placed a soft kiss on Wilson's forehead and whispered, "Good night, Wilson."

Wilson didn't respond for very soon after he heard those words, House's breathing evened out and he began to snore softly.

While the action of House following him into bed was unexpected, it certainly wasn't unwanted. He loved the feeling of House cuddling close to him. It made him feel safe. He had never felt like he was in danger in his life, even when he was around Danny, but he'd never known the feeling that someone would always be there for him, if not in his own way. He'd never known the feeling of someone being there to protect him and love him for him and though House hadn't said anything about loving him, he hadn't needed to.

Gregory House was not the type of man to cuddle but he had willingly done exactly that at two different times. Sure the first time Wilson had asked but the misanthropic man could have easily said no and left. He hadn't and instead he'd chosen to curl up on the uncomfortable, poor excuse for a hospital bed and cuddle with him.

Now, more than a week later, here they were cuddled comfortably in his bed without a single complaint being made from either man and Wilson couldn't be happier.

He fell asleep thinking of nothing, all thoughts having been driven out of his mind by the sheer safety he felt lying in House's arms.