009. Disgust

Intolerant

House limped out of the bar, Wilson close on his heels, both of them laughing. They turned towards where they had left the car but Wilson stopped before they had taken more than a few steps.

"I think I'm too drunk to drive," he said with a rueful smile.

"You think?" House said with amusement as he leaned casually on his cane.

"Alright. I know I'm too drunk to drive," Wilson replied.

"Well, since it probably wouldn't look too good for the respected Head of Oncology to get arrested for DUI, you'd better find us a taxi," House replied then he paused with a wicked glint in his eyes. "Just not right now."

"House," Wilson said warningly. "What are you planning?"

House limped towards Wilson with that wicked grin still on his face. Wilson backed away, torn between laughing and scolding. A sudden drop in the level of light made him looked around and he realised House had backed him into the entrance of the alley next to the bar. When he looked back, House was right in front of him and a moment later he was pressed against the brick wall of the bar.

"Sneaky," he said, giving in to his amusement as he rested his hands on House's hips.

"It's my middle name," House said smugly as he settled himself more comfortably against his lover.

"Really? I thought it was bastard," Wilson replied with a grin.

"Only on Mondays," House replied before leaning in and kissing Wilson.

"Mmm," Wilson murmured into the kiss, returning it with enthusiasm as he pulled House even closer.

They were both so involved in the kiss that they didn't hear the three men until they were almost on top of them.

"We don't want no fags around here," came the disgusted voice from the leader, a burly blond with almost no neck.

House and Wilson pulled apart in surprise but before either of them could react or say anything further the blond reached out and dragged House out of the alley. House gave a shout as the sudden movement jarred his leg and he lost hold of his cane. Wilson leapt forward but was caught by one of the blond's friends and shoved to the ground. The next several minutes were a flurry of punches and kicks. Wilson could hear House's gasps and curses through his own cries then he heard his lover scream.

"Hey!"

The sudden shout came from further away and the three thugs swore. With a last kick, they ran and Wilson gasped and choked as he tried to move towards where he could hear House's hoarse breathing. He flinched when a hand landed on his shoulder and whipped his head around, moaning when the injudicious move caused it to start pounding.

"Easy, buddy," came the same voice that had shouted just before. "We've called for an ambulance and the cops. You just stay still."

"House!" Wilson coughed.

There was a moment of silence and the hand on his shoulder tightened fractionally.

"Your friend doesn't look too good."

Wilson drew in a painful breath and pushed himself onto to his knees. The hand on his shoulder shifted and caught him when he almost fell.

"Jesus, buddy, I don't think you should move."

Wilson glanced around to see the barman who'd served them earlier looking at him with concern. He shook his head fractionally then looked around to find his lover. House was lying on his side a few feet away, one of the barmaids kneeling beside him, talking softly to him with a gentle hand on his shoulder as he drew in short, sharp, gasping breaths. The barman helped him stagger over to House's side and he dropped to his knees. The barmaid was trying to keep House calm and Wilson could see the worry and fear in her eyes.

"I think he's got a punctured lung," she said with a waver in her voice when she saw Wilson. "His breathing sounds exactly like my brother's did when he was in a car accident a year ago."

"She…may…be right," House gasped, his voice a bare whisper.

Wilson shifted a bit closer to his lover, ignoring the pain from his own wounds.

"The world must be ending," he said with as much humour as he could muster; his jaw ached abominably. "Greg House agreeing with someone about a medical matter."

One corner of House's mouth twitched upwards and his eyes flickered open for a moment, pain and humour shining through for a moment before he closed them again. The sound of sirens wailing in the night became noticeable.

"Said…may," House forced out.

The barmaid smiled as the barman chuckled. Wilson slumped down next to House and rested one hand on his neck, both for comfort and to judge House's pulse. It was elevated but not dangerously so and Wilson relaxed a little. The sounds of sirens grew and an ambulance came speeding around the corner, pulling up beside them. The next few minutes were a flurry of questions, prodding and poking from the paramedics and Wilson concern grew when he saw how passive House was other than a few snarky comments, mild by his usual standards.

"We're going to take you both to Princeton General, Dr Wilson," the paramedic who had been examining him said calmly.

Wilson shook his head. "Princeton-Plainsboro."

"General's closer," the paramedic replied.

"We both work at Princeton-Plainsboro," Wilson explained as the paramedic helped him to his feet.

He was in far better condition than House; bruises all over his back, a spilt lip, a small cut over one eye, a badly bruised jaw, nothing more than that. House, however, had at least one broken rib and the punctured lung in addition to a substantial amount of bruising. The paramedics were also worried about internal bleeding.

The paramedic gave him a long look. "Fine. Princeton-Plainsboro it is."

The police had arrived by this stage and as he and House were loaded into the ambulance, Wilson could see the barmaid and the barman being questioned. The paramedic that had been treating them had a quick word with one of the police officers then the doors were being closed and the ambulance was underway. Wilson settled himself as best as he could with the bruising on his back and leaned over towards House.

"They're going to find out about us," he said quietly, watching as the paramedic worked on House with swift efficiency.

"Inevitable," House replied shortly then he groped towards Wilson with one hand.

Wilson caught the hand with surprise and gave it a squeeze.

"Good for…my rep," House whispered with a shadow of his usual smirk. "Explains…a lot...'bout you."

Wilson couldn't help but laugh at that and he could see the amusement on the paramedic's face out of the corner of his eye.

"You probably right on both scores," Wilson said dryly, reassured by House's acceptance of the matter.

He settled back in the seat as best as he could, House's hand still in his, and let the ambulance take them to the hospital.