Disclaimer, etc. in chapter 1.
People have asked about the whereabouts of the other characters since this is set in the future. Let's say that Cameron and Chase have taken nice positions at other hospitals in their respective fields and that Foreman, perhaps believing that House will only be around so long, has taken a tenure-track job in the diagnostics department. There are three new ducklings. But this is a House/Wilson piece and a House/Wilson piece it will remain. Thanks for the reviews. This plot thing is rolling right along.
Soon
Cuddy paused at the door to take in the scene before her: House in a recliner, leg propped up on an untouched hospital bed, gown a little too short for the way he was sitting, intent on the video game he was playing; Wilson standing next to him, gloved and bearing a cannula, not looking too patient.
"Need your arm, House," Wilson nettled. "Believe it or not, I have other things to do today."
"I'm not the center of your universe?" House answered, never taking his eyes from the screen. "You wound me, Jimmy."
"Come on," Wilson whined. "You've beaten that game, what, six times already? Who brought you that thing, anyway?"
"One of the minions," House replied. "The redhead I think."
"Randall?"
"Sure, why not."
Cuddy smiled at the scene. It was so normal. Her oncologist looked rested for the first time in over a week and even if her infectious disease jerk was the pale, gaunt scarecrow he'd been before Wilson had gotten a hold of him, he was acting normal. He hadn't been acting normal since he'd stopped coming to work two weeks ago. Either in too much pain or too drugged to be himself, Wilson had said. And scared. But now… Now she simply smiled.
Having given herself time to be happy for them, she quickly adopted the administrative mask her job required of her.
"House," she barked from the door.
Both of them jumped and House's face settled into a sulk.
"Aw, you killed me," he complained.
"Thanks," Wilson said to her, pinning House's arm to the chair before he could restart the game.
As she approached them, Cuddy could see the red pin-pricks on House's arm. Idly, she wondered how his drug rehab would go this time. Years of training asserted themselves and she pushed sympathy aside.
"The nurses can do that," she said to Wilson.
He glanced briefly at her. "You really want him near the nurses?"
"You have other patients," Cuddy returned. "Lots of them."
"He's my patient until the biopsy comes back negative," Wilson countered in a less-than-thrilled tone.
"Ow," House complained. "You're no good with the big needles. Stay out of daddy's tool box from now on."
"Baby," Wilson muttered as he taped the cannula to House's hand.
"And why'd you have to call her?" House grumbled.
"Because I'm your primary," Cuddy answered with an eye roll. "Vincent agreed to come in this afternoon. I need a time."
"Vincent? That's the best you could do?" House griped, already scratching the tape.
"He's the best surgeon in the hospital," Cuddy retorted. "I had to grant more favors than you're worth to get him today."
"Please tell me you didn't sell your first-born," House said. "She's so cute for someone with only four teeth. But where she gets her looks is a mystery to me."
"Five teeth," Cuddy corrected impatiently. She drummed her fingers on the foot of the bed. "Still need a time."
"Nothing to eat since last night," Wilson answered while he programmed the I.V. "He had some water at six. Six?"
House shrugged. "Six-ish."
"Okay, seven," Wilson corrected. He turned to Cuddy. "Three o'clock?"
"I'll tell him," Cuddy confirmed. She hesitated for a moment. "It goes without saying that you can have all the time you need," she said to House. Glancing to Wilson, she added, "We need you here, but the same goes for you." Looking back to House, she continued, "Just don't take too long."
House grinned maliciously. "Foreman in over his head?"
Cuddy tipped her head to the side. "He's good, but he's not you. And one of your fellows keeps hounding me about when you'll be back. Something about taking the fellowship to work with you."
"Is that the bimbo, the pusher, or the whore?" House asked impishly. "My memory isn't what it used to be."
"It's Randall," Cuddy answered with another eye roll.
"The one who brought you your game," Wilson added, also rolling his eyes.
"The whore," House said with a knowing nod. "I suspected."
"Yeah, they love you," Cuddy retorted. She stood to leave. "Get better," she said to House. "I need you back here, doing your job."
"I bet that's not all you need—oomph." House glowered at Wilson, rubbing his shoulder. "Kidding."
Cuddy just smiled and shook her head at the two of them.
"The twins look great!" House called after her as she left the room. "Ow, hey—really, kidding," she heard him add.
With Cuddy gone, Wilson leaned against the bed and House resumed his game, still shooting sulky looks at Wilson for jabbing him.
"I shouldn't be jealous of this Randall character, should I?" Wilson asked.
"So not my type," House said, focused on the game. "Redheads don't do it for me." His lip curled devilishly. "And you should be much more worried about Cuddy."
Wilson kicked House's chair this time. House grunted, thumbs flying over the video game controls.
Wilson picked up an empty urinal, shook it to get House's attention, then placed it next to the chair.
"Okay," Wilson said, straightening up, "I think that's it. I'll leave a booster with the nurses. Need anything else?"
"Nope," House replied. "Randall brought me extra games and batteries. What service."
Wilson batted House's shoulder again.
"Hey," House protested, frantically pressing buttons to keep his character alive. "Wife beater. So not cool."
Wilson ignored his comments and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I'll stop by in a few hours."
"Wait a second," House said, concentrating on killing a few bad guys first. "There."
He paused the game and reached up for Wilson's neck, pulling him closer to kiss him seriously.
"Make it sooner than that," House said, his eyes searching Wilson's.
Wilson saw anxiety and fear there, and put a reassuring hand on House's shoulder. "Okay. I will."
House's grip tightened and he began rubbing Wilson's jaw with his thumb. "In fact, don't leave at all. I know a game we could play."
Wilson's eyes fell closed. "Not at work, House. We agreed."
"And we've broken that agreement how many times?" House replied.
Wilson forced his eyes open. He put a hand on House's wrist and gently pulled House's hand from his neck. "You're okay. You've got your game. I'll see you soon."
"Sooner than that," House insisted.
"Soon," Wilson replied.
"Sooner."
Wilson brushed House's cheek and stepped back. "Cuddy's kid is more mature," he said. "Cuter, too."
"But I have more teeth," House retorted. He resumed the video game, not without a little pouting. "Go play with your pets."
"Be good," Wilson said, heading toward the door. "No lawsuits today."
He waited for House to acknowledge him. Nothing.
"I'll stop by in an hour."
"Sooner than that," House said, eyes on the game.
From the doorway, Wilson reminded himself that House was facing more leg surgery and (he hadn't forgotten this one) the possibility of cancer. He wasn't in pain now—not much pain, anyway—but he would be soon. Neuromas hurt. Really, really hurt. They explained why he'd spent most of the last two weeks in bed instead of pacing. And he was still scared. Surgery in only six hours now when he'd brought House in today fully expecting to take him back home after the MRI. Surgery. On the leg.
"Okay," Wilson replied with a smile. "Sooner than that."
House smiled ever-so-slightly and taking his cue, Wilson disappeared with a faint whoosh of white coat.
