Inspired by this wonderful drawing by ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
laurazel! *hugs*
Series: House M.D.
Story contents: © March 3, 2007 by dragonwrangler
Summary: House thinks a little on his friendship with Wilson.
Disclaimer: House M.D. is the property of Universal Studios and Fox. I'm making no money from this story- I just like messing with the characters.
House wonders briefly if he should shift Wilson into a more comfortable position, or at least take the reading glasses off him, but decides against it. Truthfully, he’s too comfortable and he knows how rough the last few days have been for the younger man.
I sure fucked things up this time, didn’t I Jimmy, he thinks as he absently shifts the arm Wilson is resting his head on to scratch an irritating itch just above his eye. Wilson turns his head and House waits for him to settle, watching to make sure that the book lying face down on the younger man’s stomach stays in place before completing his own move.
He listens to the slow steady sound of Wilson’s breathing, welcomes his warm weight against him, and can’t help but to brush his fingers through the younger man’s hair- just to muss it up a bit- as he lets his mind wander over the puzzle that is his friendship with Wilson.
He knows why they became friends- in his own way Wilson is as broken as he is- but he isn’t quite sure how they managed to remain friends all these years; not only have they remained friends they have even managed to grow closer to one another.
Still, he’s hurt Wilson more times during their friendship, intentionally or unintentionally, than he can count, and this time he knows the hurt went deep.
“I’ve got no kids. My marriage sucks. I only had two things that worked for me- this job and this stupid screwed-up friendship- and neither mattered enough to you to give one lousy speech.”
House still remembers the pain that hit him as he listened to Wilson’s voice crack on the emotions bottled up inside him, still remembers how that pain twisted his guts at the realization Wilson had spoken of their friendship in the past tense.
And he still remembers the sadness that slowly washed through him when Wilson spotted the lie in his apology even as he spoke it, and at the resigned way Wilson had called him out on it.
“They matter. If I could do it all again…”
“You’d do the same thing.”
Perhaps that is the secret behind their screwed up friendship. Neither of them have the ability to truly lie to the other for very long- keep secrets maybe, but not lies- and as brutal as that kind of honesty can be it is something they need from one another, something they can't get from anyone else. They both have facades to maintain. Wilson, good little boy that he is, does what is expected of him even when it leads to another loveless marriage, even when it tears him apart inside; and House does whatever is necessary to keep people away since letting anyone get close- no matter how much he may want it- only leads to pain and anguish.
House absently rubs his damaged leg. I certainly have proof of that.
It felt good to have one person in his life who could see through the facade and who just accepted the fact that he was completely fucked up.
He's sure Wilson feels the same.
He’s pulled from his thoughts when Wilson shifts, lifting his head to take a quick look around.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to nod off like that,” Wilson says as he sets the book aside to sit up.
“You didn’t miss anything, there’s crap on tonight.”
“There’s always crap on. It wouldn’t be any fun if it was good.”
“True.”
“I should head home now.” Wilson says. The words are simply a formality; they both know he’ll be staying the night but it is a familiar routine that must be played out so Wilson doesn't feel too guilty about ignoring his obligations.
And it is also a way they reassure one another that their friendship is still there.
“Nah, you leave now and you’ll just wake up the wife, then you won’t get any sleep.” House waves his hand as he pushes himself to his feet. “You can sleep on the couch.”
As he stands, leaning on his cane for support, he glances down at Wilson. There is a slight smile on the younger man’s face as he says gratefully, “Thanks.”
House smiles back. “See you in the morning,” he says before heading for his own bed.
"I'll cook breakfast," Wilson calls out, and House smile grows just a little bit more.
laurazel! *hugs*Series: House M.D.
Story contents: © March 3, 2007 by dragonwrangler
Summary: House thinks a little on his friendship with Wilson.
Disclaimer: House M.D. is the property of Universal Studios and Fox. I'm making no money from this story- I just like messing with the characters.
House wonders briefly if he should shift Wilson into a more comfortable position, or at least take the reading glasses off him, but decides against it. Truthfully, he’s too comfortable and he knows how rough the last few days have been for the younger man.
I sure fucked things up this time, didn’t I Jimmy, he thinks as he absently shifts the arm Wilson is resting his head on to scratch an irritating itch just above his eye. Wilson turns his head and House waits for him to settle, watching to make sure that the book lying face down on the younger man’s stomach stays in place before completing his own move.
He listens to the slow steady sound of Wilson’s breathing, welcomes his warm weight against him, and can’t help but to brush his fingers through the younger man’s hair- just to muss it up a bit- as he lets his mind wander over the puzzle that is his friendship with Wilson.
He knows why they became friends- in his own way Wilson is as broken as he is- but he isn’t quite sure how they managed to remain friends all these years; not only have they remained friends they have even managed to grow closer to one another.
Still, he’s hurt Wilson more times during their friendship, intentionally or unintentionally, than he can count, and this time he knows the hurt went deep.
“I’ve got no kids. My marriage sucks. I only had two things that worked for me- this job and this stupid screwed-up friendship- and neither mattered enough to you to give one lousy speech.”
House still remembers the pain that hit him as he listened to Wilson’s voice crack on the emotions bottled up inside him, still remembers how that pain twisted his guts at the realization Wilson had spoken of their friendship in the past tense.
And he still remembers the sadness that slowly washed through him when Wilson spotted the lie in his apology even as he spoke it, and at the resigned way Wilson had called him out on it.
“They matter. If I could do it all again…”
“You’d do the same thing.”
Perhaps that is the secret behind their screwed up friendship. Neither of them have the ability to truly lie to the other for very long- keep secrets maybe, but not lies- and as brutal as that kind of honesty can be it is something they need from one another, something they can't get from anyone else. They both have facades to maintain. Wilson, good little boy that he is, does what is expected of him even when it leads to another loveless marriage, even when it tears him apart inside; and House does whatever is necessary to keep people away since letting anyone get close- no matter how much he may want it- only leads to pain and anguish.
House absently rubs his damaged leg. I certainly have proof of that.
It felt good to have one person in his life who could see through the facade and who just accepted the fact that he was completely fucked up.
He's sure Wilson feels the same.
He’s pulled from his thoughts when Wilson shifts, lifting his head to take a quick look around.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to nod off like that,” Wilson says as he sets the book aside to sit up.
“You didn’t miss anything, there’s crap on tonight.”
“There’s always crap on. It wouldn’t be any fun if it was good.”
“True.”
“I should head home now.” Wilson says. The words are simply a formality; they both know he’ll be staying the night but it is a familiar routine that must be played out so Wilson doesn't feel too guilty about ignoring his obligations.
And it is also a way they reassure one another that their friendship is still there.
“Nah, you leave now and you’ll just wake up the wife, then you won’t get any sleep.” House waves his hand as he pushes himself to his feet. “You can sleep on the couch.”
As he stands, leaning on his cane for support, he glances down at Wilson. There is a slight smile on the younger man’s face as he says gratefully, “Thanks.”
House smiles back. “See you in the morning,” he says before heading for his own bed.
"I'll cook breakfast," Wilson calls out, and House smile grows just a little bit more.
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