A/N – Warning - the act of passing gas, of being flatulent, is mentioned in this chapter. I think it must be a guy thing. My apologies to any guys who might read this story and take offense, but hey, most guys that I know take pleasure out of passing gas loudly and leaving the bathroom a mess, so that's why I say it must be a guy thing. This chapter is mostly fluff; there's a little break in the angst before the next big thing hits.
At 9 am the next morning, Wilson was up, showered, shaved and dressed. House was still in bed; awake, but not entirely, and definitely not ready to get up yet. The evidence of Wilson's activities this morning was everywhere. Breakfast was cooking, coffee had already been brewed, House's clothes and shoes had already been laid out on Wilson's side of the bed, and both the wheel chair and walker were easily within House's reach. They were in no hurry this morning. House didn't need to check back into the hospital until noon. In leaving both the wheel chair and walker set up and within House's reach, Wilson wanted to give House as much privacy and independence as possible, and leave the decision as to which assistive device was needed up to House.
The only pressing need House had at the moment, which was becoming more urgent by the minute, was to use the bathroom. The need to urinate roused House out of his semi-sleeping state. House began the stretching and limbering-up routine that he'd adopted in the hospital, which added another five or ten minutes to the already slow process of getting up in the morning.
From the kitchen, Wilson knew House was up when he heard the clunking of the walker on the floor. "Holler if you need help," Wilson called after him.
As he lumbered into the bathroom, the wisdom of having those grab rails placed in strategic locations became immediately apparent. He appreciated the additional room under the raised sink for a tall man's walker or cane. No longer would he have to stoop over to wash his face in the sink. He appreciated the raised toilet seat, even though it still looked like it belonged more in an old age home than in his home. The raised toilet seat meant it would be a hell of a lot easier to stand up from a seated position. At least the bathroom as a whole still looked like a man's bathroom, and not some old geezer's.
The tub had been redone to suit his needs, too. There was a new grab rail on the wall over the tub and a portable grab rail had been bolted on to the front side of the tub. A hand held shower had been installed on the shower head, and a portable padded shower seat had been installed in the tub. House didn't think he'd need the shower seat routinely, but the nice thing about this one was that it was a deluxe powered model. Once seated on it, he could lower the seat to the bottom of the bathtub, making it much easier to take a tub bath independently, and then raise the seat back up again in order to get out. House had nice antique fixtures in his bathroom and he appreciated the care that Wilson and the contractor had taken in installing everything without marring or disrupting the look of the antique plumbing and fixtures.
Standing to urinate was made much easier by the fact that there was a grab rail several feet above the toilet, and it protruded out from the wall far enough that a man standing to urinate wouldn't have to lean too far forward to hold on to the grab rail. House only had a half-height wall next to the toilet, so it wasn't possible to install a grab rail on either side of the toilet. Installing the grab rail several feet over the toilet was actually genius. It was high enough that he wouldn't bump his head on it when sitting down or getting up from the toilet, and he could use the half-height wall to help get on and off the toilet. He just needed the toilet grab bar to hold on to while standing to urinate. He made a mental note to find out from Wilson later what contractor he used, if he used one. As much as he detested the idea of having to have aids in his bathroom, now that they were there, he was thankful for them. Whoever installed the bathroom aids was a genius. House knew that the bathroom would never be wheel chair accessible, so there was no point in lowering the sink to make it accessible to someone in a wheel chair. Raising it so that a tall man wouldn't have to stoop over was the best that could be done and, in House's eyes, was a very touching gesture from Wilson.
"You ok back there?" Wilson called after him.
"Yeah. Just admiring the architecture," House quipped.
"Well, don't admire it too long. Food's getting cold."
"Won't break any speed limits getting out there, but I'm on my way."
The soft bumping sounds of a walker clunking on the tile floor in the bathroom gave way to the loud sounds of glass shattering. In a split second, Wilson was there to help.
House was standing in the middle of a small pool of water, a dirty toothbrush, and shards of broken glass on the floor, smiling softly in a very embarrassed way. He'd simply bumped the sink accidentally with his walker in the process of turning around to leave the bathroom after brushing his teeth. Typical of most guys, though, he'd left the bathroom a mess; water and toothpaste splattered all over the sink, a half full glass of dirty mouth water and the dirty unrinsed tooth brush on the wet surface of the vanity. They didn't stay on the vanity very long.
Relieved that House was fine, and noticing the distinctly embarrassed look on House's face, Wilson started laughing hysterically. "Shit… you scared the crap out of me! Serves ya right, idiot, for not rinsing your glass and toothbrush out and putting them up when you're done! Ever heard of cleaning up after yourself?
"Ever heard of plastic, moron? Geez, you spent a fortune on cripple-proofing the place and you can't spare a few bucks for a plastic cup?" House laughed. Since he couldn't die of embarrassment, the only thing he could do was snark back and try his best to just laugh it off.
Smiling out of relief that House wasn't injured, Wilson's next step was to make sure House had good slippers on so he wouldn't cut his feet on the glass. Wilson already had his dress shoes on, so he stepped in and kicked the mess aside.
"You ok while I get a broom and clean this up?"
"Yeah, but I need to sit down."
Laughing, Wilson said good-naturedly, "Yeah, I know. You're just looking for any old excuse not to have to clean this up."
Taking a brief respite seated on the closed toilet, House watched bemusedly while Wilson swept up the mess.
"And don't leave dirty toothbrushes, wet wash rags, half-full cups of water and stuff like that all over the bathroom anymore. I don't want to have to pick your ass up off the floor when you fall on the wet stuff," Wilson added.
"Yes, mommy!"
After every last little bit of broken glass was swept up and safely removed from the bathroom, and the floor was dry enough to be safe to walk on, Wilson left House to go back to the kitchen and finish up breakfast. He knew House would call if he needed help.
Within minutes, the clunking of the walker and House's unique step-hop gait could be heard coming down the short hallway. Wilson turned around when the clunking noises stopped. A drop-dead gorgeous man, dressed in a faded tee shirt and cotton pajama bottoms, stared back at him straight in the eye. The word "Quickie" came to mind immediately. God, Wilson wanted to take him right now on the coffee table. The look on House's face said Right back at ya, brother. Eye sex is wonderful. But since the adjective "quick" had to be re-defined when it came to House's current physical abilities, they had to be satisfied with hot eye sex while House made his way to the sofa.
House's kitchen was well stocked but wasn't big enough for a kitchen table. And the piano was sitting in the spot that would ordinarily have been occupied by a dining table. When Stacy was living there with him, they would either eat out or sit on the sofa and eat off of TV tray tables.
Thus, the only eating arrangement currently possible was to sit on the sofa and use the TV tables. Wilson had managed to stuff enough folded blankets under the sofa cushions so that House could sit on the sofa and not sink too far down into it.
House got himself situated as comfortably as possible on the sofa and Wilson brought breakfast in for both of them. "Hope you like it," Wilson began, but he hadn't even finished the sentence before the sounds of loud chewing and slurping could be heard. "Geez, you eat like a starving barnyard animal! So glad you obviously like it," Wilson said.
Bacon, eggs, pancakes, oatmeal and coffee all pretty much disappeared down House's throat within about fifteen minutes. Wilson had flipped on the Today Show, trying to get some news and weather. Shortly thereafter any noise from the TV was drowned out by a horrendously loud, very gross belch and then an "Aaahhhhh," coming from the sole occupant of the couch. The reason why House was the sole occupant of the couch was that Wilson knew what other noise usually followed a belch, especially after a full breakfast. Wilson had made a run for the kitchen to get out of the way of the fart that was sure to follow. Since belching and farting really did make up significant parts of their conversations sometimes, Wilson knew that a couch fart could be particularly overpowering, and was something to avoid being around at all costs.
House looked around. "What, you don't like belching anymore?"
"I'm not in the mood for a belching and farting contest with you this morning. You need to get dressed. We have to be back by noon."
"Can you bring my stuff out here?"
"Seriously? You're not getting dressed out here in the living room. You can make it back to the bedroom. Everything's already out on the bed."
Grumbling, House slowly got to his feet and clunked his way back to the bedroom with the walker. The grumbling continued the whole time he got dressed, and the act of getting dressed took a lot longer these days. Given adequate time and privacy, even though the grumbling never stopped, he completed it independently. Doing things independently, even though they might take a lot longer and cause a little inconvenience for other people who had to wait for him, was a lot better than having someone else interfere when it really wasn't needed. While he was still back in the bedroom, the sound of something electric could be heard. Oh God, no, he's not shaving, is he?, Wilson feared.
Appearing in the kitchen doorway about thirty minutes later, House was even hotter in the blue jeans, almost new gray print tee shirt and brand new red Nikes. His hair was just the right amount of messed up. He had obviously clipped his beard back a little, but there was still enough stubble left that Wilson almost couldn't resist the temptation to run his hand over it – again and again. Wilson's jaw dropped when he turned around from the sink full of dirty breakfast dishes to face the man he loved.
"We did enough of that last night, Boy Wonder. Don't we have to be somewhere soon?" House quipped.
Wilson had to take some deep breaths, to calm down and remind himself that there might be a better time and place, to do what he suddenly wanted to do with House, than right now and on the coffee table.
"I can help with the dishes," House added. "It'll speed things up. I know you can't stand the thought of leaving them in the sink."
"No, you can't help with the dishes," Wilson fired back.
"Ooohh, ouch! Yeah, shoot the poor cripple down."
Wilson replied, "Well, maybe I should say 'no you won't.' You wouldn't do them when you had two good legs, so why start now? When you hear what I'm about to say, don't think you're hallucinating. The breakfast dishes can wait. If you really want to go back now, sure, I can take you back now."
"It's not that I want to go back now just for the sake of going back to the hospital. It's that if we don't start back there now, we're going to run into lunchtime traffic, and I don't want to sit in the car any longer than I have to. I don't want to miss this time with you, and at the same time, if I miss any therapy at the hospital they'll just keep me longer to make up for it. It's a necessary evil."
House wasn't lying about why he wanted to go back. Nobody wants to go back to the hospital just because they love being there. It's a necessary evil in order to complete the prescribed inpatient therapy. House was a master scammer; ordinarily, he'd have found a hundred ways to manipulate the system in order to stay home longer than the overnight pass permitted, or else just scrap the pass altogether and stay home for good. But scamming his way out of his prescribed inpatient rehab program just didn't seem worth all the trouble it would take to make the scam successful. If Dr. Smith was gullible, Ruth certainly wasn't, and House still had some other issues to work through. Better to just face it head on and go back.
