SIX WEEKS LATER...
"What do you mean he's on the no-fly list, how did that happen?... Uh-huh, well that's understandable… just for your airline, right?... Okay then, just for Newark airport, then, right?... No? All airports and airlines in the country? That seems a bit extreme… yes, I understand that… well thanks for nothing!" Cuddy slammed the phone receiver down on her desk and dropped her head into her hands and sighed. Of course, a twist like this was surely coming… she should've seen it before, she should've seen something like this surely coming before she agreed and promised to go to all the way to South Dakota.
Picking up her receiver again, she rang Wilson's office and called him down to speak with her, hoping he would have some kind of advice on this strange situation, or at least know how to get out of it. Maybe she could talk him out of this trip altogether. He was clearly the one pressuring both her and House about going after all, as House did not seem keen on it whatsoever and actively avoided the subject whenever it was brought up. With a long sigh, she slipped down in her seat after thanking him when he'd said he'd be right down and hanging up the phone. For two employees who use every excuse in the book; one of which makes the hospital next to no money and most years runs us into a financial deficit, I sure spend a lot of time on these two clowns. They make me next to none of the hospital's money and take up 90% of my time!
"You wanted something?" Wilson queried, poking his head through the door before walking in and seating himself down on one of the chairs across Cuddy's desk.
"Yes, it's about this South Dakota trip… were you aware that House is on the no fly list, and completely black listed from every airline in the country?"
"I may have not, not known," he scratched the back of his neck anxiously as Cuddy's eyes narrowed, "I know that he has happened to get himself kicked off of a plane more than once,"
"Wilson, we can't do this trip if we can't fly there. It's just way, way too far away. How are we meant to get there?" Cuddy sighed, resting her head in her hands again and shaking her head, "we have to cancel this trip now. I've been on the phone all day trying to sort this out, to no avail. Plus, House doesn't seem particularly keen on going anyway, so what's the point in bullying him to go?"
Wilson just shook his head, "sorry, no can do Cuddy. Greg needs to go on this trip. He has… unfinished business to attend to in South Dakota. We just need to get there an alternative way,"
Cuddy rolled her eyes, "you talk as though he has business with the mob or something. And what alternative ways were you scheming?"
"Well, since you're coming along, and we all have the leave pre-approved; I'd planned that we're going to drive there. It'll be fun, like a little adventure," Wilson shrugged.
Cuddy felt her face redden at Wilson's clearly pre-planned scheme, and the thought of using up all of her saved up leave to just spend it with House and Wilson anyway, yippee; "and you're going to drive, across the country, in your Volvo?"
Wilson let out an awkward laugh and just looked at Cuddy expectantly, before her eyes widened, and she shook her head, slowly and slightly at first before quickening up, "no, Wilson. No, this trip has nothing to do with me, I'm coming along as a friend of House's and nothing more. I'm not taking on any more responsibilities than I already have,"
"Come on Cuddy," Wilson pestered, "think about his poor leg, you know how much pain he's in ordinarily, just imagine how much worse it's going to be after sitting in a small car for that long," Wilson leant forward over the desk, he knew it was manipulative as hell, but this needed to happen; and he needed his boyfriend to be comfortable as much as possible, "besides… you are the one who maimed him…"
Cuddy's face flushed red with anger and disappointment; "you know what I did wasn't in my intention to disable him, Wilson. That's not fair. In that case, you ought to speak to Stacy. Get her to go with you instead, if that's your manipulative motive; because she was the one who was his medical proxy, she signed off on the surgery," Cuddy looked at him with a horrified expression.
Wilson looked slightly smug, "and you were the one who operated on him. Not to mention it's safer driving in the north Midwest in a larger car, a 4-wheel drive, now, do you agree?" as he smiled slyly.
Cuddy sighed, she wasn't necessarily enjoying this new Wilson that had come about since he and House had started dating; it was as though he and House had switched places; but even House hadn't been this deliberately cunning and manipulative. Wilson wasn't somewhat endearing and childlike as House typically was when he was trying to get his way- Wilson's methods were proving to be much more coercive, calculating and guilt tripping; just meanspirited in general. Cuddy felt it to be almost frightening at times, and certainly off-putting. There was no playfulness or cheekiness behind his words and ways, they were all to get his goal, regardless of how he reached it or who or what he might step on to get his there, or to get his way. She couldn't help but to wonder how House was doing behind closed doors; he had appeared to be much more subdued than usual lately.
"Fine," she mumbled, "we'll head off first thing Saturday morning; I'll be there before breakfast. Don't be running late. You're dismissed, Dr Wilson,"
"Thanks, Lisa," he smiled a bit too brightly and headed for the door; Lisa just sighed and shook her head. Roped into their shenanigans, and to be walking into God knows what when it came to House's family. All she really knew was that there must be something sinister about them, surely, in order to have created an enigma quite like Gregory House.
James was rushing around on Friday night, desperately trying to get ready to leave in the early morning to beat the traffic, while Greg was taking great pride in being absolutely, spectacularly unhelpful. He was currently lounging about eating ice cream from the tub while watching television, sure, it's majorly passive aggressive, but I made it clear I don't want to go, and he just refused to drop the subject, so it's simply punishment for not taking my feelings into consideration at all; and subjecting me to familial torture for his own morbid curiosity. "Greg, come help me pack, please," James sighed, hauling his heavy suitcase to the front door, "Cuddy is going to be here at 6:30 tomorrow morning, and you know how much I absolutely hate being late,"
"No," Greg answered as he pointed at the TV screen, "you see, The Biggest Loser is on a marathon tonight. Ha, the fat bastards running a marathon, as if," he laughed to himself at his personal, inside joke; "and I like to pretend that they can see me eating ice cream in front of them,"
"Greg, we're doing this trip because of you," James growled, folding his arms over his chest, watching Greg stare at some poor soul on the television having a piece of chocolate cake waved under her nose but being unable to touch it.
"You could have fooled me, you're the one who wants to go. The last thing I want to do is spend four or five days sat in Cuddy's truck all day to go and see family who I don't like, and then sat in a truck for four or five days back; purely to satisfy your curiosity," Greg muttered back, shoving another heaped spoon in his mouth as pieces and drips of ice cream dripped down his front, which he just used his finger to rub into the material of his shirt.
"Greg, the only reason that we're driving in the first place and not flying is because someone thought it'd be funny to claim that a passenger had a bomb on the airplane in the start of 2002!"
Greg shrugged, feigning indifference, "I wanted to see what would happen,"
"What did you think was going to happen in that scenario? Plus, you did it more than once! You're lucky that you weren't jailed for that!" James cried out in frustration.
"That's the beauty of this country, freedom of speech and all that, now I'm trying to watch the fatties," Greg grumbled.
James slapped his hands at his sides, "suit yourself, but if you're not going to help me pack your stuff, then you'll be wearing clothes that I choose,"
"Whatever," House mumbled, mouth full of chocolate ice cream, "hey do we have any chocolate sauce?" he continued as James walked out of the lounge room back to the bedroom, "James? James? Chocolate sauce?"
It wasn't long before Greg's bag sat packed by the front door too; and it was then, and only then, that Greg decided that it was time to switch off the television and head off to bed. James was lying, exhausted under the covers when Greg walked in and hung his cane up on the side of the dresser and stripped down, "fancy a bit of fun tonight?" he purred as he crawled, naked into bed next to James, who just shot him a look of really? After I've just exhausted myself packing for a one-month trip?
"Come on baby," Greg purred, trailing his finger up and down James' arm before leaning to whisper in his ear, "I know you want to,"
James finally relented, and it wasn't long before a heavy make out session was underway; Greg felt himself become extra excited and felt his cock absolutely throbbing. James wrapped his well trained mouth around his lover's rock hard member as he sucked away, before Greg pushed him down onto his belly, "it's my turn to be the top," he muttered under his breath as he covered his cock in lube, before applying some to his fingers and gently pressing down on James' asshole, slowly shoving his way in, massaging his prostrate as he heard James gasp and Greg could feel his lover's sphincter spasm slightly and his leg twitch.
Greg then removed his fingers once James had orgasmed and gradually inserted his cock deep into James' rectum. Greg's cock was about nine inches long and particularly girthy, so he knew that when he was top, it wasn't necessarily comfortable for his partner, so he leant forward between thrusts and kissed the back of James' neck, before knotting his fingers in his hair and pulling James' head to the side, kissing him passionately while still pumping himself deep. He could feel the twitching of his lover's face between pleasure, and pain; and within about 15 minutes, Greg felt the warm rush of ecstasy flow through his body as he came deep inside with his last few thrusts, before pulling himself out and panting along with James next to him.
After they had both had a shower and were lying in bed, James was already fast asleep, Greg sat under the dim light of the bedside table lamp as he put his bookmark in his book, slid down the bed, and leant forward to kiss James tenderly on the forehead; "I love you, James Wilson," he murmured, as he ran his fingers tenderly through his boyfriend's hair and smiled down at him, before popping his bedtime Vicodin, rolling over and falling asleep, exhausted; from the sex, as opposed to James' exhaustion both from the sex and packing for the both of them.
6am came around all too early, and Cuddy pulled up; exhausted and irritated at how she'd somehow found herself being roped into driving her truck halfway across the country with two of her most colourful, but frustrating, doctors; to attend a family event with people that she'd never met and would never meet again. Climbing down out of the truck and walking up the front path, she heard an argument inside, not a bad one; but really consisting of Wilson simply yelling at House in frustration, and clearly not being the first, or even fifth time he was requesting so by the barely concealed irritated tone of his voice; to put his shoes and socks on as Cuddy would be there any minute, and House, ever the one to argue for argument's sake, responding back loudly that he would just take them off in the car, so what was the point?
Cuddy extended her finger and rang the doorbell, which Wilson answered immediately, having clearly been standing on the other side of the door the full time. "Shoes! Now!" he yelled at House, who was currently barefoot and shirtless rummaging through a cupboard, which Wilson then took notice of, "why is your shirt off? Again? Christ House, you frustrate the hell out of me!"
"Don't take the Lord's name in vain, Jimmy, shame on you. Now where are my coco puffs?"
Wilson ignored House's question and silently passed Cuddy a bag and started limping out the door, carrying another one; his body language screaming that he didn't want to talk about whatever events had occurred that morning in the lead up to Cuddy's arrival, that he threw the suitcases, rougher than he needed to, into the tray of Cuddy's oversized, Ram 1500 black pickup truck. House followed them out, slamming the door behind him, with shirt on this time, cane in one hand, and shoes and box of coco puffs in the other. James rubbed his temples in pure frustration, and Cuddy looked at him sympathetically, it had clearly been a very rough, very long morning; "I swear sometimes, Lisa, I think he's a child trapped in an adult's body,"
She laughed, "I know, I manage him,"
James' face settled into a straight face, his lips slightly pressed together, "try living with him full time. It's exhausting; it's like living with a five-year-old trapped in a 45-year old's body. Well, I guess you will in the next month or so," he shot her a pitying look like he knew what was coming, "welcome to hell,"
"I don't think a five-year-old could have destroyed your asshole the way my cock did last night," House grinned, hoisting himself into the front seat and Lisa grimaced in disgust and second-hand embarrassment for Wilson, as she climbed into the driver's seat, with Wilson in the back.
"Well boys, time for our big adventure. Are you ready to go?"