Disclaimed.
Sorry for the wait folks, but I've been busy/sick. This chapter took me a couple days to write for some reason. Good news is the Rodrigo y Gabriela CD I ordered off came today. So yay for that, right? Bad news is that there has been a drastic drop in my reviews. But I guess that's my own fault.
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"Hahaha and then the bike wheel flew off and he flipped into a huge puddle of mud! It was the most flustered I've ever seen Greg in my entire life. He just sat there looking lost." The whole table laughed as Micheal and House recounted tales of childhood. The times they were together at least. House smiled into his lap flipped through the picture albums. He liked Micheal . Probably the only member of the family he DID like...other than his mother of course. Then again you couldn't not like her. Not until you realized how her overt nicety affected her son's childhood and relationship with his father. Of course very few people ever had the chance to see the life that went on behind closed doors. The silent meals and enraged yelling. Broken toys and broken bones. House's smile turned around as his thoughts wandered to the less enjoyable times in his life. Cameron noticed his unusual silence and took his hand. His eyes flickered to hers for an instant and she gave a soft smile. The corner of his own mouth turned up in response and he continued with the stories. He told of Micheal falling down the stairs and the time he tried to date a girl. They spoke of ponds and camping and dirty magazines. No one mentioned John. And no one thought it was wrong to ignore the man that had died. Not this one.
"Greg was always getting into something. Biking, running, camping. Always outdoors, always on the move. You couldn't keep him sitting for long! I remember I would get calls from his school about him taking a bathroom pass and going outside and doing cartwheels and climbing trees on sunny days. It's a wonder he was as smart as he was, with as little as he went to class and everything." Blythe continued looking through pictures with a nostalgic smile on her face. House was again had the bad memories flitting through his mind, poking, prodding, tainting everything good he had ever done or felt. Dirtying them with anger and fear. Casting long shadows of sadness over the sunny days with friends. It was always like this for him. No good memory was ever unaccompanied by a bad one as a result. Skipping class to soak in the sun may have been cute to his mother and relaxing to him, but if his father found out...hell was to be paid. In full.
"You can't just run out of class every time you feel like it boy! Do you want to turn out more ignorant and foolish than you already are? Hell, I pay good money for clothes on your back and food in your gut and you can't even be gracious enough to try to learn. Maybe get a good job and pay me back for all I done for you. Lazy, good for nothing, piece of shit. You are nothing boy. You're nothing!" The following slaps to the head and kicks to the behind were some of the most painful. But the words always hurt worse. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will sting forever. They are the deep gashes in one's psyche that can never scab over or heal. Because someone always comes by to unknowingly stumble over and spit a careless word in your face. And there it stays forever. It isn't a simple bruise that will fade with time. Words hurt. Always.
A bleary eyed Blythe let loose a quiet yawn, which of course she politely covered with a perfectly manicured hand.
"My my my. Look how late it is! It's been a long day for us all...I believe I'll head on to bed. Micheal where will you sleep, since of course Glen will take the couch." Her innocent face was almost sweet enough to let it slide, but House had to chuckle and step in.
"Mother...the couch folds out. They'll sleep there together. Like normal couples do. You really have to work on this..." Micheal and Glen smiled as Glen placed a thankful hand on House's shoulder. Blythe just nodded politely and said her good nights to all in the room. Once her door shut, Micheal and his love unfolded the couch bed and House told them where the sheets and blankets were. They said good night and House and his friends worked their way to his old bedroom. Cameron went into the bathroom to change while Wilson helped House.
"I guess I'll be sleeping on the floor." Wilson looked forlornly at the worn carpet and House laughed.
"Sorry Jimmy Boy...but a cripple and woman shouldn't be forced to sleep on the ground when there is an able bodied man to do it for them!" Wilson shot House an exasperated face and walked out to get more blankets to make a pallet. Cameron walked in wearing rolled up gym shorts and a black wife beater. House hid the twitch of his boxers as he pulled the blanket up and motioned to the bed.
"How did you know to bring spare clothes?" He questioned as she laid a bit stiffly beside him.
"I've met your mother...I just figured better safe than sorry." House nodded and slipped an arm under his head as he stared at the ceiling.
"Quite the motto to live by." Cameron said nothing and Wilson walked in. He began spreading quilts onto the floor.
"Oh Wilson, I can sleep there. You take the bed."
"And sleep with House? No way. You have my sympathy. But, at least you don't have to worry about him kicking." Cameron smothered a grin and raised her eyebrows.
"Oh he's just mad because Micheal and Glen are in a committed relationship and turned him down for a threesome." This one was a bit harder for Cameron not to laugh at, but ever the polite one she at least tried. Wilson cut out the light, and grasping House's hand Cameron shut her pretty eyes and tried not to think of how weird it was that three grown people were in a teenagers room trying to sleep and forget that his mother was just down the hall. Eventually, her lids were weighted down and closed as she lay in the arms of the man she was in the most complicated of relationships with.
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"So, how did we all sleep last night? James, was that old trundle bed too lumpy?" Wilson's fork stopped halfway on its journey to his awaiting mouth. He shot House an evil look. House just painted such an innocent face you could see rays from his (stolen) halo shining down around him. Cameron's eyes got big as she giggled at the picture.
"Trundle bed? There was a trundle bed?" Wilson queried, looking completely unsurprised yet utterly annoyed. Glaring daggers at his friend Wilson leaned back in his chair. House set down his own glass of orange juice and batted his eyelashes.
"Oops? I forgot about that old thing. Guess you didn't have to sleep on the floor after all James. Too bad we're leaving today. Oh well." He gave the most sorrow sarcastic smile he could muster and Wilson squinted his eyes.
"I slept fine Blythe. Just fine. No thanks to your son here. What were all those smacking sounds I heard last night? They kept me up for the longest time." Wilson looked pointedly at his friend, who just grinned in response.
"Well Jimmy Boy, Glen and Micheal ARE basically married. They're allowed to kiss." Deflected! House smirked at Wilson's failed attempt to humiliate him in front of his mother and cousin, and of course Cameron. Wilson just smiled and shook his head. Leaning forward again he resumed eating breakfast. Blythe sprinkled the table in cheery small talk. Wilson looked at House and let his mind meander down the path of House's personality. Many would have been upset at such an allusive comment in front of their mother, but not House. He was able to look past the fact that it was directed towards him and be proud of how Wilson was randomly able to stand up for himself against House. Just like when he filed through his best, and only true friends cane. Yes, it hurt him. It physically pained them both. To see his friend lying there on the ground, no one moving to help him, and him not even trying to get up on his own. He fell right onto his bad leg, just like Wilson knew he would. But that didn't stop the Master Enabler. No, he had learned that it was ok to joke about House to his face at times. It was what made House respect Wilson. When he wanted to, he could be mean. But, he knew when and when not to use it. House knew too...he just claimed hard of hearing when the little voice in the back of his head wailed into his mind's ear.
It seemed to James Wilson, and presumably everyone at the table, that for the first time in many many years, perhaps his whole life, House was comfortable at his parents table. He sat there, joking and laughing, telling stories and telling lies. But they weren't hurtful. Not for the most part at least. And those that were at someone else's expense (mainly Wilson) would good natured and not as cruel as he could have been. With a sigh, Wilson thought about what a shame it was that a man had to die to finally release his iron grasp of his sons psyche. Perhaps now, House could move on. Maybe settle down with Cameron, have a baby or two. Hell, who knows? Maybe even work in the clinic without getting yelled at by Cuddy! He seemed to be ok now. The story had a happy ending. Or at least, a crappy one.
"These pancakes are great, Mom. They're cooked Just Right."
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Oh wow...I was not expecting to end the story in this chapter. But then again, I'm not one for planning what I write. I just sit and let the story take it's own form. I'm not sure how much I like the ending, but I think it's all wrapped up nicely.