InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "The evil in you comes out."

RD Lenix (rdlenix) wrote,
@ 2008-08-03 00:13:00

Private Log: House/Wilson
FOR KATIE

It had been a shit day at work - and that's not something Wilson was often willing to admit. Usually he managed to find something good from the day to dwell on instead of all the bad things but today? No. There was nothing. His new shoes had been puked and bled on, a patient on steroids got violent and punched him in the face and that was only scratching the surface. With bleary eyes he drove home, navigating through the rush hour New Jersey traffic toward House's apartment.

Since their...'relationship', aka the sex, started he'd moved out of his hotel and in with House. Of course he usually slept in a different room on nights neither of them were in the mood but he didn't mind. Too much, anyway. Sure, he was emotionally evolved in the relationship while House didn't seem to be as much but as per usual he tried to ignore his own feelings. This was House after all. The man would perhaps come around someday but for the mean time at least he was allowed to curl against the older man after they'd had sex.

Parking in the spot right beside House's bike, Wilson got out and unlocked the door to their building, stepping inside - glad for the air conditioning he was greeted by. Yawning and scrubbing a hand over his face he made his way up to their apartment, opening the door and stepping inside. He'd make a bit of dinner maybe and then head to bed. Though really the man knew better than to try and make any solid plans since House liked to throw curve balls at him some nights. Setting his brief case down by the closet he slipped out of the ratty shoes he'd borrowed from an intern, making a face.

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life_is_a_song
2008-08-03 11:44 pm UTC (link)

In House's screwed-up worldview, there wasn't much room for emotion. He could admit, of course, that having sex with Wilson was an enjoyable part of his routine, and that he preferred having sex with him to not having sex with him. He could also, after a couple of drinks and a Vicodin, admit to himself that he didn't mind having Wilson in his apartment - and not just because he could cook and clean, but also because he was pretty to look at, like designer furniture or an expensive painting. But to admit anything else would be to break through the bubble that was Greg House's belief system, a framework so carefully constructed that House didn't know if he could function without it. He certainly wasn't willing to find out.

On this particular evening, House was home early because he had solved his case just after lunch and had then made an elaborately constructed trade with Cuddy to get himself out of clinic duty. He was pretty bored, though - there were only so many episodes of Judge Judy and various soap operas he could watch before his highly developed brain shut itself down due to lack of stimulation. When he heard Wilson come in, therefore, he looked up expectantly at him, trying not to smile, but still managing a smirk in spite of himself. His entertainment for the evening had arrived.

"Nice shoes, Grandma," he said by way of a greeting, picking up on the odd footwear immediately. "Don't tell me," he said holding up a hand as though Wilson was on the verge of responding right then and there. "One of your little bald kids wanted your shoes, so you handed them over and then borrowed some from that fugly nurse with the boils on her face." He shook his head, reaching for his cane in case Wilson tried to wander away and he needed to follow quickly. "I would have let you borrow sneakers, Jimmy, Jesus. All you had to do was ask."

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rdlenix
2008-08-03 11:50 pm UTC (link)

Scowling at the greeting, Wilson just rolled his eyes and headed straight into the kitchen to get himself a glass of apple juice. When he first moved in House had absolutely nothing decent in his fridge. Maybe some peanut butter, moldy jam, bread and crackers but outside of that the man's food sources were limited. So Wilson had taken it upon himself to go grocery shopping once a week, keeping all the foods up to date and always managing to keep a variety of food and drink for the two of them. It was a little bit of himself he had brought into an apartment that mostly screamed "House".

"I would have loved to borrow your sneakers, but you left before a clinic patient puked all over them. I had to borrow those from an intern." He called out from the kitchen before taking a sip of the juice, closing his eyes.

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life_is_a_song
2008-08-04 03:22 pm UTC (link)

House used his cane for leverage, eventually standing to slowly hobble into the kitchen behind Wilson. He mentally cursed his leg for being sore and slowing him down, then automatically went to his pocket for his pills, bringing one to his mouth so he could dry-swallow it as soon as he arrived in the kitchen. "Interns wear shoes like that?" he asked as he watched Wilson drink his juice. He liked the way Wilson looked with his head tilted back and his eyes closed - it reminded him of the way Wilson often looked in bed, in the midst of pleasure. "I think I would have worn the puke proudly before I'd be caught dead in those." He shook his head. "Just another reason for Cuddy to let me out of clinic duty. A fashion faux pas like that could ruin my reputation."

Amazingly enough, this teasing and talking about vomit was House's way of showing Wilson that he cared, and that he was interested in how his day went. There was, of course, no possible way for Wilson to see that, and House knew that Wilson probably didn't know he gave a shit about him, but he still did, on his own terms in the strange silence of his own head. "So," he said after what he deemed as an appropriate pause in recognition of Wilson's hard day at work. "What's for dinner?"

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rdlenix
2008-08-04 03:43 pm UTC (link)

Polishing off the juice he rinsed out the glass and set it in the sink before glancing at House. He noticed the look in the other man's eyes and smiled ever so faintly. Wilson was still blown away that House could find him remotely attractive.

"That's gross, House." Wilson pointed out, shaking his head as he began poking through the fridge and then the cupboard, looking around for what he could make. "How about Mac and cheese? Home made stuff, not out of the box." He clarified, turning to face his friend. Mac and cheese would be a quick and easy meal for him to make which, after the day he'd had, was just what he needed.

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life_is_a_song
2008-08-04 09:21 pm UTC (link)

Homemade, not out of the box summed up everything House secretly liked about Wilson. His friend took the time to do everything the right way, the natural way, the best way. He worried about all the things House didn't care about - appearances, other people's opinions, whether food was healthy and whether it tasted real or manufactured on its way down his throat. And Wilson didn't care as much about things that mattered to House, like instant gratification, the need to sit around doing nothing, the ability to settle for less than the best for the sake of not having to work. Wilson was such a good friend, and such a good oncologist because he cared enough to go the extra mile. House, on the other hand, would have dumped some water into a package of Easy Mac and had it on the table in ten minutes. It would never occur to him to make a homemade meal. But then, no one had ever accused House of being a good friend.

"Fine, but hurry up, I haven't eaten since lunch and I'm starving." House set his cane aside and limped over closer to Wilson, coming up behind him. Leaning down slightly, he placed his lips next to his best friend's ear and said in a low seductive voice, "And I want to make sure there's time to have an oncologist for dessert."