AN: I'm rating this chapter individually. There is slash in this chapter so those of you with fairly innocent eyes, be warned! Though, I will admit that I didn't go overboard nor get very specific. I'm shy that way. Thanks for the reviews!
Chapter 10:
Cuddy walked into her office, not at all surprised to find House sitting in her chair with his legs up on the desk and bouncing a racquet ball off the wall, annoying the patients in Exam Room 1. "No."
"No what?" He asked.
"No to whatever you're going to ask." She replied without thinking, shooing him away from her desk so she could sit in it.
He sauntered over to the other side and sat down in one of the chairs. He inhaled deeply, "Need to take Wilson home." He told her.
"Is he ok?" She asked half concerned about him, half concerned about the files on her computer.
"Some guy tripped himself on Wilson's knee so now he's in a lot of pain, so I'd say no." House replied sarcastically yet bitterly, dragging out the last portion of his sentence.
"House, it was an accident." Cuddy told him catching the hint of bitterness and anger in his words.
"Actually it wasn't." House replied as he began taking his phone out of his pocket and finding the picture.
"Don't tell me you did it?" She replied incredibly, getting ready to scold him.
"No, not me." House answered like she was an idiot. "Dr. Daniel Cavanaugh." He told her while he handed her his phone, the screen showing the sadistic sneer. "I took that just as he finished apologizing to Wilson. You see, he's happy about causing Wilson pain." He pointed out.
Cuddy stared at the picture on the phone. She shrugged and handed the phone back, "Well that's definitely a look of happiness but you could have taken that picture at anytime in Wilson's office." She told him, writing his conclusion off. "He's a good doctor-"
"He's an idiot who got where he is with his daddy's money!" House argued, "Do you know that he brings all his files to Wilson to check before he turns them in. Wilson gladly helps because he's Wilson and he knows how to do his job so he always has critiques, suggestions and mistakes to point out. I swear he wrote out almost a page of them. You should have seen Cavanaugh's face!" He said, his tone going from argumentative to mocking to joy.
"Be that as it may, and I WILL be confirming it with Wilson, that doesn't prove he tried to hurt Wilson on purpose." She replied administratively.
"So instead of investigating it, you're going to wait and see if he tries to hurt Wilson again?" House mocked, "Makes sense if you don't want your Head of Oncology healthy or here at all." He got up and walked towards the door.
"House!" Cuddy called to him, stopping him before he turned the knob. He turned around to face her. "Find some solid proof," she told him, "something more than a random photo on your phone." He nodded to her and left.
Cuddy shut her eyes and leaned back against the chair. This was already a long day and now she has to worry about doctors attacking each other, GREAT! Some days she'd like to come to work and NOT feel like a babysitter.
House stormed out of Cuddy's office, making a slight detour to the Pharmacy to pick up his Vicodin prescription before heading up to Wilson's office. He was trying to decide how he was going to go about proving Cavanaugh did it on purpose without putting Wilson in line for more pain when he reach his office, only to find the duckling's waiting for him.
"LP was clean, so was the MRI and blood tests." Masters started immediately, always the eager one. They rest usually sat back and watched while she laid out the facts.
House angrily strode into the conference room, staring at the white board and trying to find something that connects all the symptoms together. "Biopsy the liver, ultrasound the stomach and schedule the OR. We've got ourselves a bleeder."
Masters stared at him confused but the other 3 immediately left. 3+ years with him has taught them that when he does something like that, he's usually right and if so, they need to find it right away.
House finished packing and exited via the balcony doors to enter Wilson's office. He found his friend still lying on the couch, fast asleep. It always left him in awe how young Wilson looked while he slept. The lines of worry, pain and exhaustion left his face giving the image of someone in their early-mid 30s rather than their early 40s. He pulled up a chair and watched the sleeping man, memorizing every line of his face, gently caressing his cheek.
Wilson stirred at his touch, his eyes fluttering open. "Hey," he greeted, "we gotta stop meeting like this. People will talk." He joked.
House laughed, "Well we better give them something to talk about." He suggested slyly.
Wilson raised an Oh really? eyebrow before he smiled. "Maybe later when I'm to run away."
House rolled his eyes, "You're no fun." Wilson just laughed and began to sit up. "How are you feeling?" House asked, mentally smacking himself on the forehead for the amount of concern that came through his voice.
"Better." Wilson answered, still sitting on the couch.
House gave a dramatic eye roll and sigh, "Good! Gotta make sure you can cook tonight, I'm sick of take-out." He quipped. "So, we gonna go or are you going to make a tent?"
Wilson returned his eye roll, "Hand me my crutches." He demanded while pointing at them.
"Geez! What do you want me to do next, carry you out there? Cripple here!" He exclaimed while he put more emphasis on his limp.
"Actually yea, if you wouldn't mind carrying me, that'd be great!" Wilson quipped back with a smile.
House didn't answer. Instead he threw Wilson his coat, smacking him in the face with it. "Put your coat on and shut up." He said while he brought the crutches over. "Here, I'm not carrying your fat ass out the door, I won't make it."
"Hey!" Wilson cried indignantly. "My ass isn't fat, not compared to yours at least."
House put on a hurt face, "Oh Jimmy, you wound me!" He exclaimed dramatically, his hand going to his heart.
"So, it is possible? Wow!" Wilson replied as he gently stood up, slipped his coat on and got a firm grasp on his crutches.
"Just get that unbelievably sexy ass of yours out the door!" House growled non-threateningly.
"Wait, so which is it? Do I have a fat ass or a sexy one?" Wilson asked, faking confusion.
House waited for him to lock his office up. "Hey be nice Jimmy, I've got a cane and I know how to use it."
Wilson put on his best wounded puppy face, "You wouldn't use it on an injured man would you?"
House sneered at him evilly. "Have you met me?"
"Good point!" Wilson replied with a head nod. "Let me rephrase that. You wouldn't use it on the guy who's going to make your dinner tonight would you?"
"Cheater." House answered with mock sadness. They both know he wouldn't hit Wilson with his cane while he's injured.
They made it out to the car with relative ease, Wilson mother henning House while on the potentially icy sidewalks even though he has just as much chance of falling as House does. They arrived home in almost record time with no traffic to contend with and were both settled on the couch, sipping beer and watching one of House's TiVo'd shows within an hour of leaving.
At the end of a second episode of The L Word, Wilson had started getting uncomfortable. The Naproxen had worn off half an hour ago and the numbing effects of the ice only last so long. He started changing positions, biting his lip to keep quiet groans from escaping his lips. He decided his best option was to get up and move around via starting some dinner.
He crutched around the couch to avoid getting in the way of the tv and heads to the kitchen. He stands there staring at the stove for a few minutes, seeing a flaw with his and House's plan. How is he going to cook with only one leg to stand on?
"If you turn the little knobs on the front to the "Medium" notch, it turns the stove on." House instructed sarcastically.
Wilson turned around and glared, "Thanks, I never would have figured that out if not for you." He deadpanned.
"No problem!" House replied cheerily while he grabbed another beer from the fridge. He came over to stand next to Wilson, leaning against the kitchen island. "So, why are you staring at the stove?"
"I'm trying to figure out how to cook while balancing on one leg." Wilson replied like it should have been obvious.
House gave an exasperated sigh. "Go sit down, I'll cook tonight." He told the younger man, a hint of big baby was in his voice.
Wilson didn't budge. "No, you do it all the time therefore I can. I just need to figure out the logistics." He said as he propped up his crutches against the wall diagonal from the fridge, out of the way. He limp-hopped over to the fridge, grabbing the ingredients he wants from it and placing them on the island counter. Then he limp-hopped to the stove, bending awkwardly down on one leg to grab the cutting board, the pots and the pans he'd need, placing them either on the stove itself or on the counter next to the stove. He was thankful that while the kitchen was spacious it was also a confined space which is exactly what he needed.
With a triumphant smile he turned to House. "See, I got it. You go back to the living room. I'll call you if I need you."
House stared evenly at him for a moment before he shook his head. "No." He said, placing his cane next to Wilson's crutches. "Gotta make sure you don't burn the place down or hurt yourself while you're attempting to be me."
"I'm not attempting to be you." Wilson argued, his hands on his hips in what most have come to call the "Wilsian Pose".
House gave a snort, "All you'd need is a cane and a little more wit and you'd be close."
Wilson cocked his head to his right, "I don't know whether to consider myself insulted or complimented." He said as he began to chop red, orange, yellow and green peppers and 2 cloves of garlic while he leaned his right hip against the counter.
House didn't offer to help any time during the cooking process instead he just pulled up a chair and watched with growing desire. He could never understand why but Wilson in the kitchen was ALWAYS a big turn on for him; the fluidity of his movements while he added things together that always turned into an amazing meal, the flush of his cheeks while he stood over the heat and the way he moves about the kitchen with graceful ease all contributed but what really gets House is the glint of pure joy in the chocolate brown orbs that just bring him to his knees and yet make him want to drag the man into the bedroom, dinner be damned!
House sat and watched until he thought he was going to drown in desire. He couldn't take it anymore. He eased himself silently off the chair and towards his lover, who was now stirring some lasagna noodles, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around Wilson's waist, bending down to kiss his neck.
Wilson froze under his touch because he had been surprised by the contact. Once the surprise had faded, rather quickly in fact, he all but melted, trying his best not to purr with every kiss. He felt like his body was electrically charged and every touch from House sent sparks of pleasurable electricity through his veins. "House." He said, doing his best not to moan. "Dinner's cooking."
"Yeah, I was able to deduce that with my brilliant powers of diagnostics." House replied in between kisses to Wilson's neck and ears.
He began to gently nibble on Wilson and the oncologist almost let go of the spoon he was holding. "Just let me put it all together and get it in the oven, ok?" he demurred.
House pulled regretfully back with smoldering glint in his eyes. "Don't keep me waiting too long." He warned teasingly, running a caressing hand over Wilson's collar bone before he headed towards the bedroom.
Wilson blushed scarlet and felt an excitement in his groin. He quickly threw the lasagna together, put it in the oven and set the timer for 1hr45mins. He then limp-hopped over to where he put his crutches, grimacing when his injuries let him know they didn't like it, and headed to the bedroom, making a quick stop to grab a couple of his pain meds and downing them with tap water.
He found House sitting up in bed naked but covered by the blankets. He felt his cheeks burn crimson with desire again and crutched his way over to the bed, placing his crutches against the wall by the bed before he sat down. He felt House scoot closer to him, kissing his skin while he helped get Wilson undressed.
House pulled off Wilson's shirt, one shoulder at a time, kissing and nibbling as he went. He then gently pulled Wilson onto the bed more, patiently waiting while he waited for his partner to adjust to the change of position and gently lay his injured leg awkwardly on the bed. House removed the knee immobilizer with the skill and gentle touch of a doctor and placed a pillow under the injured joint then moved in, gently straddling Wilson, and began to unbutton the dress slacks that Wilson still had on from work, pulling them and Wilson's boxer-briefs off in one swift and practiced motion, making sure to be extra careful around his injured knee and foot.
After placing the immobilizer back on Wilson's knee and gingerly laying the leg on a small mound of pillows, House resumed his straddle. He began to slowly grind their hips together, their erections rubbing together eliciting pleasant moans from both.
Eventually Wilson joined the thrusting, ignoring the pain that ignited throughout his injured leg. He grabbed House's penis, thrusting his hand up and down, tightening and loosening with practiced ease. House moans into his neck where he has been nibbling and kissing for the passed minute. Wilson lets a wicked smile come across his face as House begins thrusting harder against Wilson's hand. He slows his pace down, forcing House to do the same. "Patience," he whispers silkily into House's ear, "we've got all night."
House began thrusting harder and faster again, "You may, but I don't." He replied huskily, thrusting once again and biting a little too hard on Wilson's neck, trying to get his point across.
Wilson complied, knowing his lover was nearing the end of his endurance. His thigh must be killing him in this position. Normally Wilson is the one on top since he's the healthier one and he likes being the more dominant one in bed but with his injuries, he just isn't able to this time or lately, putting more pressure on House's ruined thigh.
House gave a high-pitched moan and Wilson knew he was close. He began playing with the tip, then applying pleasurable pressure to the shaft causing House to give one last final moan that lasted as long as it took for him to get to the climax, then release. With a final gently kiss to Wilson's neck, House collapsed onto the bed physically spent.
Wilson laid there patiently waiting, listening to House begin to regulate his breathing. He knows House will return the favor when he's ready, which usually doesn't take long. "How's your leg?" He asks out of pure concern. He hears a hiss of pain and the familiar rattle of a pill bottle as an answer. Wilson lets out a quiet sigh. "I'll go check on dinner." He says, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice.
"You set the timer. It will go off when it's done." House pointed out, knowing what Wilson was planning on doing. He rolled over onto his left side, cuddling with Wilson. "Give me a few minutes." He tells the younger man softly, running his hand over Wilson's collar bone.
Once again Wilson finds that he melts at House's touch and suddenly he's putty and is unable to move, giving House the image of compliance which, going from last night's argument, he needs.
Wilson feels himself deflate at the memory of last night and gives House a gently hug. "Maybe later." He says by way of an apology though he doesn't know what he's apologizing for. He waits for House, who is looking at Wilson with confusion written all over his face, to release him so he's able to gently ease himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed.
Wilson sits there for a bit, contemplating what cloths to put back on and whether or not to try to get them to fit over the immobilizer. He doesn't even realize that House has gotten off the bed until the diagnostician is kneeling in front of him, gently slipping his injured leg through the opening in his underwear. With a patience that is never associated with the older man, House waits for Wilson to put his other leg through before he starts putting the injured leg through the biggest pair of sweats either of them own. Clearly he's trying to avoid having to take off the immobilizer too.
Once both of his legs are through the underwear and pants, Wilson stands up using the wall for balance so he can drag them over his butt and onto his hips. He grabs a hold of one crutch and uses it to keep his balance while he holds out his hand for House to grab. He gingerly, but with strength that belies his body type, eases House up off the floor and lets him sit down on the bed.
They both share grateful looks with the other at the same time, causing a bout of laughter, before Wilson grabs his other crutch and heads off towards the kitchen to make sure the lasagna is cooking thoroughly and not burning. Satisfied that it is in fact done, Wilson props his crutches against the wall diagonal from the fridge and grabs the potholders. He places the lasagna on top of the stove and begins to load the dishwasher so he wouldn't have to worry about it after dinner.
House comes out of the bedroom wearing a loose t-shirt and sweats, watching Wilson with a scrutinizing glare. Wilson knows he's trying to solve the puzzle of Wilson in a hurry to escape and he also knows that it won't take long for House to figure it out.
Wilson ignores the dissecting glare and starts setting up the table, limp-hopping painfully around the kitchen. Once the table is all set and the food is dished out Wilson sits gratefully down and begins to eat, ignoring whether or not House has joined him. It wasn't that he didn't care but his knee was killing him and he needed to get off it.
They ate the meal in silence, House still staring intently at Wilson who was doing his best to ignore it, rubbing his thigh. House caught the rubbing and gently nudged a chair toward Wilson, silently suggesting that he use it to put his leg on. Wilson smiled gratefully at his friend and did as was suggested. It wasn't entirely comfortable placing an injured leg on top of a hard chair but it was better than not doing it at all so he dealt with it and finished eating.
To Wilson's surprise, House was immediately out of his chair and cleaning up once they'd finished. He gave Wilson a hard but concerned look and jerked his head back in the direction of the bedroom. "Go lay down. Get your leg up. I'll clean up and join you shortly." Then we can talk. The words hung in the air unspoken but both men heard them crystal clear.
Wilson nodded wearily and did as he was told, stopping to grab his meds and a bottle of water. This was not going to be a fun conversation and he was going to need some relief to get through it with his normal calm.