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honey-on-your-tongue · 10 months

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All That Could Be

Series masterlist

Part two

Word count: 1.7k

You're in your office, finishing up some paperwork when House bursts in. You glance up, unsurprised at his demeanor.

“Where's Wilson?” he asks, leaning on his cane as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bottle of Vicodin. He pops a few of them into his mouth and then glances back at you, awaiting an answer.

“I'm sorry to say I don't keep track of him. I trust he's a big boy and won't get lost if I let him loose in the hospital,” you reply, returning to your paperwork.

House just walks in, sitting in the chair across from you and casually saying, “So, you heard about his divorce, right?”

You nod. “Yes.”

He stares at you, his blue eyes almost piercing through your skull. “What, do I need to spell it out for you? What else? You can't think only yes about his situation.”

You sigh. “It's not my place.”

“I'm his best friend, it's my place,” he quickly points out. “And I'm here to gather as much gossip as I can and then pass it on to him.”

You meet his gaze. “I already talked to Wilson. He knows what I think.”

House scoffs, leaning towards you on your desk. “Oh, come on! Everybody lies. Tell me the truth. What do you think about his divorce?”

“I think that he keeps getting screwed over because he's too soft.”

“Now we're getting somewhere,” he says, leaning back in the chair. “Go on.”

You oblige. “I think that he's afraid of something about himself, something he wants to heal, so he feels that if he can fix other people, he can fix himself. I just don't know what that something is...”

“No no, don't give me that psychological babble,” he sighs. “Tell me, as an unprofessional human being, what you think.”

You dodge the question. “What do you want to hear?” you demand.

He grins. “The truth.”

You sigh. “It's...complicated. Sometimes I think that he should get into a good, healthy relationship just so he can compare it to those unhealthy ones. The problem is, he keeps finding people who are unfixable because, unconsciously, that's what he's looking for.”

House nods. “So you're saying it's near impossible for him to get into a healthy relationship?”

You don't want to say it, but you do. “Yes.”

House begins spinning his cane around with one hand, his blue eyes lost in thought. “So we have to send a healthy, fixable person his way.”

You hesitate. “I meant maybe we should let it happen. I don't think manipulating the situation is a good idea—”

“Manipulating situations is the only way to get the results you want,” he cuts in. “We need someone fixable that he won't push away. Someone who knows about the plan and is willing to stay and try to get him into a relationship.”

You sigh. “This really isn't a good idea.”

House ignores you. “I'm thinking one of the nurses. But the problem is that they're too gossipy.” He makes a face. “We need someone who knows how to keep quiet. And who can pretend and pretend well.” His eyes meet yours, and you swear you see a flashlight go on in his brain. “Someone who knows the human mind inside and out that will make it impossible for him not to fall in love.”

You realize what he's saying. “Oh, no. Absolutely not—”

“Quit your whining. I'm giving you the opportunity to do something interesting with your life.”

“He's my friend. I can't do that to—”

He hits your desk with his cane. “If you care about him, you know this is the only way to snap him out of his routine. If he never has a healthy relationship, he'll have the same problem over and over again. But if we do something about it now, maybe in the future, he'll be free from this stupid fixing people shit.”

You sigh. “This is fucking ridiculous,” you say, both to the idea and to the fact that you already know you're going to agree.

“It's fucking brilliant,” House corrects. “And it's going to work.” He stands from your desk, a smooth smirk on his face. “Feel free to put the plan in motion whenever you like.” He mockingly says, “Just let me know so I don't feel left out.”

You squint your eyes at him. “Why did you come to me?” you ask. “Why not Cuddy? Or Cameron? Or another doctor who might have been willing?”

He laughs softly. “You know Wilson more than they all do,” he says. And after a pause, he adds, “And I see the way he looks at you.”

You freeze, staring at him. You consider it could be a lie, another of his twisted jokes. But he's absolutely serious, there's no mean superiority to him. Just raw honesty. He walks out of your office before you can do or say anything else.

---

As night approaches, you're ready to go home. You pack up your things and are making your way through the parking lot when you hear hushed whispers. You glance over to find House beside Wilson's car, asking something, and Wilson replies firmly. But House isn't one to ever give in.

You reach your car, deciding to leave them to their own issues. As you unlock your car and open the door, someone suddenly shouts your name.

You turn around to find House with both hands around his mouth, yelling, “Come here! Come here! We need someone absolutely impartial to help us out!”

You sigh. When you'd first met House, you'd been embarrassed by his theatrics. Now, you're just used to him.

You walk over to them, Wilson giving you an apologetic look while House...well, he's House.

“What's wrong?” you ask, realizing House has Wilson's car keys in his hand.

“I need Wilson to lend me his car because I've got something important and the weather forecast said it might rain.” He makes a face and shrugs. “The weather forecast is absolutely trustworthy. I live by it.”

Wilson glares at House. “If you wanted to stay out of the rain, maybe you shouldn't have bought a motorcycle,” he points out.

House shrugs. “I offered him my motorcycle but he's such an ungrateful little brat. He doesn't want it,” he says, clicking his tongue as if he were talking to a child.

“I don't have a license to drive a motorcycle,” Wilson replies. “I need a car.”

Hose glances around. “Oh-oh look! There are hundreds of cars here. Why don't you just choose one and go home?”

“You know, for the rest of the world, that's known as theft,” Wilson says.

House looks at you. He widens his eyes and very obviously nods at Wilson. You frown, glancing at James before looking at House again.

House sighs exaggeratedly. “I was trying to be discreet,” he says sarcastically. “Why don't you take him home?”

You feel like slapping House. But you don't. It's not worth it.

You turn to Wilson. “I could if you want to,” you offer.

He hesitates, glancing at House before realizing it's a lost cause. “Thanks,” he tells you.

You smile, nodding for him to follow. As you two walk away, House shouts, “Have fun! And don't forget to wear protection kids!”

You feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. You keep thinking about House's stupid fucking plan. How are you even supposed to make it work? You study human brain and behavior; you don't control them. How are you supposed to make someone fall in love with you out of the blue?

I see the way he looks at you.

The words make something between butterflies and guilt burst in your stomach. If House is right—which you're praying to God isn't the case—you'd be messing with Wilson's feelings. You'd be hurting him for a supposed greater good. What kind of person does that? If you do that to him, how are you better than all his past lovers?

As you and Wilson get into your car, he softly says, “I'm sorry about this. It's just that House is...” He sighs.

“No, don't be sorry. I really don't mind,” you tell him, hands trembling slightly as you turn your car on. “If anything, I'm glad to have company.” You almost wince as you try to smoothly add, “Especially since it's you accompanying me.”

James glances at you, but you try to remain nonchalant, eyes on the road as you drive onto the highway, nerves buried deep within.

“Um.” He clears his throat slightly. “How come?”

Part of you wants to die right now. The other part knows that if this going to help him, it's something you're absolutely willing to do.

“Well...it's just easy being around you,” you reply honestly. “You're a good listener and a good talker, and I never get bored when I'm around you.”

Wilson smiles softly; you can see him in your peripheral vision. “I...appreciate that, thanks.”

You say, “You don't have to thank me for telling the truth, you know.”

“Bad habit?” he suggests, chuckling slightly.

You nod softly. “Could be.”

The rest of the ride is mostly quiet. When you finally reach Wilson's place and park the car, you're still feeling uneasy.

Wilson sighs. “Home sweet home,” he says sarcastically.

You grimace slightly. “Is she still here?”

He shakes his head. “She left today. I'm only staying here a while longer until I can get my stuff out. Then we're selling the place and I'll stay somewhere else.”

You nod. “Oh. At least you've got the place to yourself. A chance to process your thoughts and feelings, you know.”

He smiles sadly. “I'm not sure that's a good thing. But we'll find out.” His eyes meet yours. “Thanks, again, for the ride. And, again, I'm sorry about House.”

You shake your head. “Other people's behaviors aren't yours to take responsibility for,” you remind him. “Focus on yourself.”

He nods. “Right. Myself. Okay.” He smiles at you before getting out of the car. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” you reply. And then you're driving home, torn between beating yourself up for doing this to him and hoping it really does help him.

#house md #james wilson #gregory house #x fem!reader

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snezario · 2 years

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the first fic i ever wrote... it’s on the forum somewhere but i tried to clean it up a bit

Ho//us/e MD; Ja/me//s Wils//on

House limped by Wilson’s dark office for a third time. Strange, he thought, normally Wilson would be in by now. He could typically hear Wilson caring from a mile away, but today was different. Not that House really cared but he thought it would be better for him to check in anyways.

He strode, to the best of his ability, to Wilson’s door and opened the door with a BANG. House stumbled upon a surprising scene; Wilson was curled up on his couch with the blinds closed. The oncologist woke up with a start, cringing away from the light and shielding his eyes.

“I need another refill on the good stuff,” House announced self-importantly.

“You could have knocked.” Wilson snapped irritably as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. He brought his hands up to his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. House narrowed eyes, noticing that Wilson’s voice sounded rougher than usual.

“Why were you sleeping here? Is your bed not comfortable enough?”

“I’m tired. I had a late night,” Wilson responded quickly, too quickly in House’s opinion. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, choosing not to say anything.

“Here let me write you up a refill,” Wilson deflected, walking over to his desk and pulling out his prescription pad.

Hmm… odd, Wilson giving him drugs without any questions asked. He also avoided answering House’s questions, meaning he wanted House out of his hair. Taking a closer look, House noticed that Wilson had dark circles under his eye and an unusually pallor appearance. He also seemed to be suffering from a headache because he was squinting as he wrote the script.

“Here,” Wilson ripped off the paper, holding it out to House without looking at him. House grabbed the slip but continued to look at his friend with narrowed eyes. Realizing that House hadn’t moved an inch, Wilson looked up from his desk. “Don’t you have a case?”

“Jeez Jimmy, if you don’t want me around just say so.” House pouted. Wilson ignored his comment, simply waving House out the door.

After House left, Wilson closed the door and slumped into his chair, groaning. That morning he had woken up feeling exhausted and, along with a sore throat, headache, and runny rose. He had taken a nap to try and relieve the exhaustion and pounding headache. At least he didn’t have patients to deal with today, just paperwork and clinic duty. His thoughts were interrupted by a strong tickling sensation in his sinuses.

“Heh’ISHHH! heh..heh’ESHH!”

Wilson grabbed a tissue and began to blow his nose, when the balcony door slammed open with a tall figure with a cane standing in the doorway.

“AH-HA! I knew you were hiding something!” House said triumphantly while brandishing his cane.

Wilson opened his mouth to reply, except that he felt another tickle building up. “Ihht’s nothhh–ing.” He denied, quickly grabbing a tissue when he realized he couldn’t fight it any longer. He brought the tissue up to his face, as his breath caught. He jerked forward, barely missing the corner of his desk.

“Heh’etshh! iTSH’uu!”

“Bless,” House smirked. Wilson tried to sniffle discreetly but House waved his hand dismissively, “I don’t care if you blow your nose.”

Wilson grabbed a tissue sheepishly, blowing his nose as quietly as possible. House couldn’t tell whether the color rising in the oncologist’s cheeks was due to a developing fever or embarrassment, probably both. He looked his friend up and down. “You need to go home. You can’t be around infecting your little immunocompromised patients, let alone me.”

“You always have to make it about y-you–” Wilson’s voice wavered on the last word and he barely had enough time to direct a sneeze into the crook of his arm.

“Well, taking you home could get me out of clinic duty, so help me help you. It’s a win-win,” House continued, looking expectantly at his friend.

“I’m not going to be a part of your plan to get out of clinic duty. Now get out of my office so I can finish working.” Wilson responded sternly, although his tone was undermined by the congestion. He brought another tissue up to his face, pointing to the balcony door with his free hand.

“Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine when you’re sick.” House remarked but opened the door to cross the patio back over to his office, giving a slight backwards glance at Wilson before entering the diagnostics office.

As House limped back into Diagnostics, Chase, Cameron, and Foreman looked up expectantly at him. “What are you guys staring at? Don’t you have work to do?” House snapped.

Chase raised his eyebrows. “We don’t have a case.”

“Well, get me one so you can stop being so useless.” House said as he limped to his personal office. Foreman rolled his eyes but got up and walked out, Chase following suit. Cameron began to trail after, until House leaned back into the conference room and whispered to get her attention.

“Whff! Psst, psst! Whaa! Phfffft!”

Cameron rolled her eyes but proceeded to enter his office. She glared at him her arms crossed across her chest. “What?” She snapped.

“Wilson’s sick.” Cameron’s expression immediately softened.

“Ugh your pathetic sympathy and caring is already suffocating my office. I already tried to get Wilson to go home, but he won’t listen to me. I thought he might listen to an equally warm and cuddly person.”

An unexpected soft knock on Wilson’s door made him jump. “Come–” He cringed at the congested pronunciation and cleared his throat, “Come in.”

Cameron opened the door, with steaming disposable coffee cup in her hand. “I heard you weren’t feeling too hot.” She said placing the cup on his desk, careful to avoid spilling any on him. Wilson blinked at her in surprise. He was used to taking care of others, rarely being on the receiving end. “Er... Thanks.”

Cameron took note of his overall disheveled appearance, gazing at him in concern. “You should go home and rest.”

Wilson took a sip of the tea and let out a pleasured sigh as the contents soothed his aching throat. He really hadn’t been taking care of himself other than popping an acetaminophen that morning. He eagerly took a slightly larger sip.

Setting down the cup, he waved his hand dismissively. “It’s really not serious, I can hh-handle—” Wilson hastily grabbed a tissue, embarrassed that Cameron had to witness him sneezing. He brought the fabric to his nose as breath hitched and the itch crested.

“Heh’tCHUu! Het’iSHH! Sorry, really I can handle it,” he assured her. Unfortunately for him, he felt another sneeze coming on. He rubbed the back of his hand against his nose, trying to alleviate the tickle. However, it had the opposite effect that he had been hoping for, instead coaxing out another sneeze. “Heh..eeh’hhTSHH!”

“Bless you, Dr. Wilson,” Cameron murmured sympathetically.

He nodded his thanks before pulling out a couple more tissues. Wilson sighed and blew his pink, tender nose for what felt like the 20th time. Taking another sip from the tea, he looked over at Cameron curiously.

“Don’t you have a case?”

“Foreman and Chase are trying to track one down. I just wanted to check on you.”

“Thanks for your concern, but it’s not really necessary. I’m fine.” He reassured her. Before he could say anything else Cameron placed the back of her hand to Wilson’s forehead, checking his temperature. She jerked back almost instantly after her skin made contact with his.

“Wilson! You’re burning up!”

However, he was having trouble responding to her immediately because the room started to spin slightly. Wilson’s vision began to blur on the edges and his brow furrowed in bewilderment. Cameron noticed his confused expression.

“Wilson? Wilson? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” She asked urgently, putting a gentle hand on his forearm.

“I… don’t know,” Wilson’s words slurred together. “I feel… funny?”

As Wilson’s head dropped sharply, Cameron reached out and caught his head before it hit his desk.

“Sorry Wilson.” Cameron whispered guiltily.

Wilson’s tickling nose woke him up and he searched around for a tissue, when he noticed that he was wrapped up in a ton of comforters and blankets in his bed. Last thing he remembered was being in his office… He looked around and spotted House with reading glasses on the crook of his nose, who looked up from his magazine.

“Good morning sunshine,” he said cheerily.

Wilson glared at him. “House,” he said warningly.

“You wouldn’t listen to me,” House shrugged, “At least it wasn’t amphetamines this time.”

Wilson continued to give House a dirty look until his breath began to hitch.

“Heh...”

“Bless,” House said offhandedly, not looking up from the magazine. Wilson noticed that the magazine was actually upside down, before his eyes snapped shut. Leave it to House to put on an act.

“Heh’ISHHH! Heh’iTSHuu!” Wilson groaned, flopping back in the bed.

House glanced at him. “Your fever was high, we almost checked you in. Luckily I found some ibuprofen and it brought it down a bit. It’s still on the higher side, but manageable.”

As Wilson got up, House asked him, “So what do you want to do now? We could watch old movies on the couch or watch old reruns of Friends.”

“House, I just want to be left alone right now. Don't you have to work anyways?”

“Nope, Cuddy let me off so I could make sure you could actually rest.” House replied brightly. Wilson sniffled, pulling a pair of slacks and searching for a tie in the closet.

“That doesn’t look like resting to me.” House noted, eyeing Wilson.

“I’m going to work House. I can’t believe you dragged me into your power play.”

“You can’t go back to work oh Wonder Boy. You’ll infect the entire hospital. I thought you were the ethical one.”

“I’m leaving.” Wilson snapped brusquely. However, as he began to walk to the door, he was overcome by a bout of coughing and dizziness. House grabbed his arm firmly and steered him to the couch. “Woah there Jimmy, not so fast. You’re not going anywhere. Do you want me to drug you again?”

House handed Wilson a box of tissues and a pleasantly warm mug of tea with honey. Wilson accepted the tea, but continued to look at House through narrowed eyes. The warmth of it in his hands was comforting, but not enough to dissuade him completely.

“Is this part of your plot to overthrow Cuddy? Will I have to deal with the horsemen and the rain of fire and the end of days?” He asked suspiciously.

House snorted. “Don’t be so paranoid.”

Wilson gingerly sipped the tea, letting out a content sigh. The warm liquid soothed his throat and the steam acted as a mild decongestant. He stretched back comfortably on the couch. House settled into the armchair next to him and flipped the TV on to some sitcom re-run. They sat together in silence for a while, with only the sound of Wilson’s occasional sniffles. Wilson eventually began to nod off and began snoring lightly. House turned the TV off and glanced at the peaceful sleeping Wilson before covering him with a fleece blanket.

#it's mostly cleaned up but i got lazy #i wouldn't say that i'm the best writer but it definitely used to be a lot worse #fiendwriting

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