House stood his ground from his bed. "I refuse to sign." Stacy sighed. “Greg, please listen to me. This could save your life.” Wincing in pain, and wiping beads of sweat from his forehead, House looked away. “Over my dead body. My leg is not going anywhere,” he said in a quiet and stern voice. “But the pain is just getting worse,” Stacy said, her voice rising in a panic. House faced her dead on. “I can take it. I've made it this far. Now get the hell out of here Stacy, and let it go.”
from the 50_scenes prompt table "borrowed" from arhh
02. Cold.( word count 100)
House and Wilson had spent most of the day indoors. Wilson went out once to attempt to clear his car off, but realized while he was out there braving the elements that it was a rather futile attempt. So he dragged his wet and sorry ass back inside, where it was warm and toasty.
House was sitting on the couch, legs propped up on the coffee table when Wilson came inside. Wilson pulled off his boots and hung up his coat before joining him. House flipped channels in a bored manner. “It’s cold,” he said. Wilson sighed with feigned annoyance.
046. Medication (word count 134)
House sat on the couch, an old blanket around his shoulders. Tissues were scattered on the floor and coffee table. He shuddered and coughed harshly. He had just managed to bring the coughing under control when Wilson came in, laden with bags from the pharmacy. House looked up at him pathetically, sniffling. Wilson came over and sat down next to House, and took out tissues, cold medication, cough drops, and House’s Vicodin. House grabbed at the box of tissues, opening them, and pulling out a handful. He blew his nose desperately, which in turn caused him to bend over in a fit of sneezes. Wilson rubbed circles on House’s back, trying to be comforting. “Bless you, all right now?” House answered with a painful sounding cough and a death glare toward Wilson.
027. Dying (word count 100)
“Wilson, I’b dying,” House whined pathetically from his cocoon of blankets on the couch. Wilson rolled his eyes as he came in from the kitchen with a mug of hot tea. “You are not dying, as much I might wish you were so I wouldn’t have to listen to you carrying on.” Wilson handed the tea to House and sat down next to him. House accepted the mug, took a sip, and set it down. He looked crossly at Wilson and decided to get back at him for that last crack. His breath hitching, House sneezed loudly in Wilson’s direction.
034. Idea (word count 100)
“House! What did you do that for?” Wilson was fuming mad, agitated. House coughed, sighed wearily, and shrugged. “What gave you the brilliant idea to sneeze on me?” House shrugged. “You were beindg mead to me.” Wilson went into the kitchen to wash his hands. “It isn’t like you haben’t been exposed already,” House called. Wilson came back in, drying his hands. “It doesn’t mean I want a one hundred percent chance of getting sick.” House looked up at Wilson, innocent. “But Wilson, I’b sick,” House whined and sniffled. Wilson put a cool hand on House’s warm forehead in forgiveness.
039. Apple (word count 100)
House had finally fallen asleep, albeit fitfully, on the couch. Wilson spent as much time as he could cleaning and de-germing everything within reach. He didn’t particularly want to get sick, even if it was just a cold. After cleaning he ate an apple, and took a handful of vitamins, just to be on the safe side. “Ad apple isn’t going to keep you from gettibg sick you know,” House grumbled as he limped into the kitchen. He poured a glass of orange juice and drained it down in one gulp. Wilson nodded. “Just keep your germs to yourself, House.”
037. Insomnia (word count 100)
Wilson had long since been asleep, claiming he had a better chance of staying healthy if he got enough rest. House was unable to sleep, the usual insomnia combined with the inability to breathe. He nursed his glass of scotch, and hoped it would bring Nyquil like sleep. He stared at the blank tv for some time, until he heard a noise coming from the bedroom. He drained his scotch, and headed down the hall to their bedroom. Wilson was sitting up in bed, tissues by his side. He glared at House between sneezing and blowing his nose. “Bless you,” House said unhelpfully, a guilty look on his face.
036. Fever. (word count 108)
Wilson was burning with fever. He tossed and turned in the sweat-soaked sheets, unable to find a comfortable position. Every fiber of his body ached and burned. He longed for sleep. House came in from the store where he had been picking up juice, tissues and soup, and checked on Wilson. He saw the state Wilson was in and returned with a washcloth and placed it on Wilson’s forehead. Wilson shivered from the contact of the cool cloth and sneezed violently. House pulled the blankets over Wilson. “Bless. Try and rest, while I make you some soup,” House said congestedly. Wilson had done the same for him.
Wilson slid his hand around House's throbbing erection, taking his time to slowly slide up and down the shaft. He could hear House breathing in his ear, the pace of his heartbeat quickening. Wilson enjoyed House like this, totally submissive and uncharacteristically quiet.
Wilson continued his ministrations, listening for any change in House's breathing, a clue to letting him know the older man was close. A barely imperceptible moan escaped House's mouth, and Wilson knew. Wilson slid his hand up and down faster, until the sticky-sweetness of cum covered his hand.
House's heartbeat slowed, as Wilson wiped his hand on House's discarded tshirt. House's lips met Wilson's in thanks and need and in love, and for all the things House would never say, but Wilson knew were there.
It was one of those nights when the sky was so black it was blue. House was filled with contradictions as he wished on a star that flickered through the midnight sky. He inhaled slowly and exhaled. The red-orange ember burned on the end of his cigarette. They fired like sparks when he flicked the remnant away.
He leaned on the cement barrier on the roof and stared up at the sky again. He waited a few more moments to see if there would be more. Instead, stars in the sky blinked out and disappeared. House thought to himself that it was appropriate; burned out stars for lost lovers.
He involuntarily shuddered and pulled the flimsy hospital gown tighter around his battered frame. He grabbed his cane from the barrier, and headed slowly to the propped open door. He wondered if anyone had noticed his absence from the ICU, and realized the only person he wanted to notice, might not notice ever again. And for just a second, like a child, he really believed in wishing on a star.
The novel in question is If Looks Could Kill by Kate White. I did take a few liberties with the first line at the beginning of the page, since some were dialogue it would have made no real sense.
Varying POV's here from House to Wilson. Mentions of Wilson/Amber and House/Wilson. Also featuring cameos from Cameron and 13. Spoilers for Wilson's Heart and S4.
Thanks to cutthroatpixie for beta! :) <3
1. Southern Accents by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
2. Whatever it Takes- Lifehouse
3. Jealous Guy- John Lennon
1. For just a minute there I was dreaming
for just a minute it was all so real
for just a minute she was standing there, with me
When Wilson woke from his dream, he was breathing heavily and his thin t-shirt was drenched in sweat. It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t standing along the shoreline with Amber. Because he was sure, for a split second that he could smell the ocean.
2. A strangled smile fell from your face
It kills me that I hurt you this way
The worst part is that I didn't even know
Now there's a million reasons for you to go
But if you can find a reason to stay
I'll do whatever it takes
To turn this around
I know what's at stake
I know that I've let you down
And if you give me a chance
Believe that I can change
I'll keep us together whatever it takes
House did everything he could think of, short of getting down on his knees and begging forgiveness. He paid for lunches, got Wilson’s favorite beer to be delivered from Canada, and arranged for his fellows to cover his clinic duty. None of this made a difference. Wilson just stared back at him with vacant eyes. Finally, realizing what was at stake, House once again made the trip upstairs. When Wilson visited him two days later, his eyes had regained some of the warmth they once had. It wasn’t like old times, but it was a start.
3. I was dreaming of the past.
And my heart was beating fast,
I began to lose control,
I began to lose control,
I didn't mean to hurt you,
I'm sorry that I made you cry,
I didn't want to hurt you,
I'm just a jealous guy,
I was feeling insecure,
You might not love me any more,
I was shivering inside,
I was shivering inside,
I was trying to catch your eyes,
Thought that you were trying to hide,
I was swallowing my pain,
I was swallowing my pain .
The memories from that day were jumbled up like pieces of a brand new jigsaw puzzle. There were two memories that stood out, like a lone sailboat in the ocean. The first one was when he told Wilson there was no hope; even he couldn’t keep the tears from falling, knowing he had just broken his heart. The second one was when he woke up in the ICU and saw Wilson standing just in the doorway, defeated, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. And then he walked away. It was as if the world stopped turning on its axis. Then all there was, was darkness.