|A Fire Divine
Author: G.E Waldo PM
Summary: Love rages....*This will probably be the only FILK I will ever write. But this song fits W/H so well... "The Tea Party" is a Canadian rock alternative band who put out five outstanding CD's, and a couple so-so ones. Like all great things that coRated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Angst - J. Wilson & G. House - Chapters: 4 - Words: 10,633 - Reviews: 15 - Favs: 11 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 05-10-08 - Published: 04-30-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4229352
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A FIRE DIVINE
Part IV (final)
Summary: Love rages...This will probably be the only FILK I will ever write. But this song fits W/H so well... ("The Tea Party" is a Canadian rock alternative band who put out five outstanding CD's, and a couple so-so ones. Like all great things that come to an end, they are split up. Jeff Martin was, IMHO the genius behind the band. A musical prodigy (musician, writer, singer, & total babe!!) who's rock music I miss terribly!)
Pairings: Wilson/House & House/Cuddy (Cuddy-lite) Wilson/Amber (Amber-lite).
Rating: Slash. Good looking Male on Good looking Male. NC-17. Adult!
Based on the Song: Fire in the Head (The Edges of Twilight) By The Tea Party.
Hoping a guide will show the way...
Amber refused to speak to him. House wouldn't discuss them or their non-relationship. Wilson had to remind himself that he and House were not even friends anymore. How did everything get so fucked up so quickly?
Hoping, knowing, always in time...
After forty-eight hours forced hospital stay, Cuddy released House and told him in no uncertain terms that he was on her shit list. "What the hell were you doing? Trying to drown your sorrows? Or kill them? You could have died!"
House left her office saddled with extra clinic hours and wondering why Cuddy couldn't come up with a more creative punishment than him scraping crust off someone's wee-wee. Contrary to everyone's assumption, he hadn't tried to kill himself. He had simply drunk way too much, becoming so drunk that his brain had crossed the line where reason or memory said it was high time to switch to water.
At least he'd woken up once with enough intact mental capacity to call an ambulance.
He had not called Wilson. Not this time. Wilson was probably grateful for that. See? Don't say I never get you anything. The problem with Wilson was, he had no idea what a catch he was. He was so not in the know of his own value that he basically rented himself out to people. Bonnie got him until the boredom set in -- hers or Wilsons. Most likely both.
Then Amber who, though she was a conniving cut-throat, at least recognized Wilson for what he was. She knew a good thing when she saw it.
Wilson wasn't a user or a slut. He'd just grown up being shown how to polish himself to a high shine. No rust must show. Reflect the sunshine even brighter than the source. Be the dark haired boy next door whom every girl -- and some boys -- would want to bring home to mom.
No one can keep up appearances forever. It's too exhausting, too perfect for anyone's psyche. It was a lesson Wilson had yet not learned. Wilson wanted everyone to love him. Wilson wanted to love everyone.
What Wilson really needed was a taste of the real thing. He would never be in a healthy relationship until he got it. But Wilson was too mired down in the fake shit to see straight. He was too much a habitual lover instead of an actual one.
House wanted to shake him up. Show him what it could be. Or bring to his attention that it was what Wilson wanted. When it came to learning anything about himself, Wilson was by far the thicker man.
Wilson stuck his head into Cuddys office. "You wanted to see me?"
Cuddy motioned him in and held out a file to him. "New oncology care nurse."
"A new one. Rotation in and out's a revolving door on the cancer ward, you know that."
"She'll need the tour, talk, your pager number, the usual."
Wilson took the file and turned to leave.
Outside Cuddys office, standing by clinic admitting was House.
He was talking to a younger, smooth faced good looking blonde man. A doctor man, judging by the physician's coat he was wearing and stethoscope hung around his neck. "Who's House talking to?"
Cuddy briefly glanced up, then went back to her work. "New guy. Doing a rotation in the clinic. Doctor Van Bruen."
Wilson thought he was suddenly standing on foreign soil when saw House actually laugh a little at something the blonde doctor had said. Van Bruen was standing quite close to House. Closer than House would normally allow by a total stranger.
Unless they weren't strangers.
Wilson tried to look closer. House was dressed as usual. The sky-blue shirt over black tee-shirt and black jeans. The combo Wilson always thought made House look sexiest. Still the face fuzz and the barely tamed hair. Yet, he appeared smoother in posture. And, while still clutching his cane with his right hand, his left was in his jeans pocket in an almost GQ-ish pose. At the combination the implication hit him and Wilson felt his heart leap to his throat.
And then there was Van Bruen leaning in and talking. And in between talking he would touch House. Just a finger or two and just quickly. Talk and touch, just on his forearm. Talk and touch. Talk and touch...
And then there was Houses small smile.
And his out of character laugh while standing with a stranger. May as well be watching a late night sci-fi, such was the solar distance between Houses usual behavior and that.
Behind him, Cuddy loudly cleared her throat. Wilson took the hint and quickly vacated her office, brushing passed House and his new...whatever the guy was. They didn't seem to have noticed him at all.
Wilson retreated to his office, forgetting all about the new nurse patiently waiting for him in the cancer ward. The thought that House might be setting his sights elsewhere. Anywhere...
Wilson suddenly felt like a leper. Isolated from human contact. Unwanted. Unloved.
Another strange new sensation had sprung up in his chest. A weird, tight, aching. Jesus.
Oh my god. House might really be moving on.
Wilson felt his eyes water and his strength ebb from his limbs. What the fuck is wrong with me?
He loved the man and had showed it by taking him as a stand-by. Way to go making the man feel special. Wilson felt nauseous when it hit him like a piano that he had been treating House like one of his wives. Ex-wives. Pronouncements of love like bouquets in a display window. Displays of love like a john needing a quickie.
Dancing with fire on the edge...
That night Wilson couldn't help but follow House. He had to know if this new guy was Houses new guy.
House rode his bike to a local bar, parked and entered. Wilson followed, walking into the dim, hops odor-ed atmosphere and made a visual search for House. He found him sitting by himself in a booth at the back of the establishment, one nearest the rest-rooms.
Wilson knew why. House didn't like to have to walk very far if he could help it.
Blonde boy-toy probably would not realize that, or even care.
Wilson cared. He cared like hell. Even those little things, as big an ass as he'd been, those little things House needed, mattered to him. Because they meant something to House, they meant even more to him.
Heart beating yet cracking to pieces, Wilson took a table far enough away to not been seen but close enough to observe. Sure enough, the blonde nightmare showed and slid into the booth, sitting his tight, twenty-nine year old ass opposite House. House right away ordered drinks and they drank them, talking together. Leaning in close, blondie laughed and smiled a lot. House returned the laughter and smiles, but not quite as much. Wilson imagined the witty repertoire and suggestive jokes, each of their physical urges mounting.
Wilson could picture the scenario about to be played out. Blondie would have House back to his place and offer him another drink. Maybe music, maybe making out on his leather couch with the big cushions. Then he would lead a slightly inebriated House to his bedroom, undress him, turn down the sheets and fuck his brains out all night long.
Wilson couldn't take another minute of the mental self torture. He paid for his one drink and fled the bar.
His heart pounded, his stomach heaved and his dick was as hard as a rock. Not because of what he had seen or imagined between them but because of the memories of things he would never again have with House. Not his mind, heart or soul. Not his delightful, warm, masculine body.
Wilson wasn't worried about the physical side of his bodies reactions to this new, and most painful, turn of events, no matter how hard his poor heart hammered in his chest or how tight his chest felt.
The painful wake-up -- the awfulness -- had been his heart breaking.
Wilson got into his car but did not fire the engine. Instead he sat, trying to imagine a life without House in it and he couldn't. He had figured that, after a while, Houses anger would subside and the friendship would right itself. A spinning, wobbling top that finds its momentum again. But instead...
To never speak to him other than professionally, to never kiss him, touch him, feel his body pressed against his own. To experience the realization -- finally you thick-headed self-serving idiot!! -- that he loved House but would now never know first hand that revolutionary feeling with House. That incredibly sad, terrifying, hope-ifying, awesome feeling...
What a terrible waste to spend the rest of your life knowing in full what you missed.
He had to fix this.
Wilson wondered if being sorry would be enough.
See how this love stays divine...
When Wilson showed up at Houses office the next morning, the Van Bruen adonis was there, standing before Houses desk, talking to House. House was sitting at his desk and Wilson could not see him for blondies broad shoulders. Wilson almost kept walking but...fuck it!
He walked in, skirted the blonde bombshell (not even looking at him), and addressed House directly. Stammering out some excuse to talk to House by himself he said, "Need you. Consult."
A half lie but what was new?
House looked up at him, thinking a moment. Wilson imagined House was considering which of a dozen different ways he might tell him to go fuck himself. But House was still a doctor and they still worked in the same hospital.
"Sure." House said and nodded to the kid. "I'll call ya'."
The kid raised surprised eyebrows, scribbled down what to Wilson looked like a cellular phone number and handed it to House. House slipped it into his top desk drawer.
House grabbed his cane and followed Wilson to his office. Entering, House said, "Well, what dying baldy needs me?"
Wilson took one breath and grabbed House by the arms, shoving him back up against the door he had just shut. He planted a hard, insistent, hungry kiss on Houses gaping mouth.
House put up with Wilson's soft lips for a few seconds (giving Wilson a glimmer of hope) before remembering he was mad as hell at his ex-lover-ex-friend. He shoved him back "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Wilson stayed back. "I was about to ask you the same thing."
House looked genuinely confused. "I already know what you're doing. You're acting like a selfish ass."
"No more than you!" Wilson could feel the sharp cut of the betrayer's blade between his shoulders. "You talk about me not being able to commit but not a month goes by and you're dating some blonde bulging biceps bimbo straight out of med school. You're a hypocrite House."
House stared at him like he had grown a second head. "You mean Junior back there?" House threw Wilson such an angry and humored and contemptuous look. "You idiot! I'm not dating him. He's pimping for a job."
Wilson felt all his anger drain away like rain water down a street grate. "He-he was just...looking..?"
"For a job. A fellowship. Remember? I have those."
Wilson almost stumbled to his desk and sat down hard in his chair. For a few seconds he couldn't think of anything to say. Then, "But, I saw you and him talking, he touched you, you drank together in a bar-"
"-you followed me?"
Wilson possessed humility enough to look guilty. "Yeah. I thought you and he, I thought you were dating him."
House thought of a number of things to say to Wilson, none flattering. But he didn't. He just sat down opposite him and stared at his clueless idiot of a friend. "He bought me drinks, I took advantage of that. He guessed correctly that I was gay so he touched me 'cause he was a pimp pimping for a job. He was in the clinic because he was following me around trying to impress me with his wit. He was funny. Just not much of a doctor. And he gave me his number 'cause he thought I wanted to call him - which I didn't."
Wilson saw how he had misinterpreted all of it.
"Which begs the question: Why would you assume I was already sleeping with someone else? I'm not the one with the loose "cannon"."
Wilson felt somehow, even worse than before he understood what was happening. Not that it mattered. He had just made himself the sorriest ex-boyfriend. Even he wouldn't go out with himself. Setting the words adrift, "I couldn't stand seeing you with someone else."
House sighed and rubbed his eyes and face. He felt sorry for Wilson. Of course, he wanted to forgive and forget this whole last month but he couldn't take chances anymore. "Welcome to my world." He said very softly.
Wilson heard and accepted the words, allowing them entry into his, up until now, carefully guarded heart. For the first time in his life, he had felt heart-break. Now, maybe he would understand how it felt when it healed. "I'm sorry."
House stood up. "Come on, buy me lunch."
Wilson followed House out, heavy of soul but lighter of step.
This is the way...
After lunch, House walked Wilson to his office but stopped at the door. Wilson turned around. "Um, by the way, I actually did need you for a consult. File's in my desk."
House nodded. "Oh." He entered, closing the door.
Without warning Wilson grabbed House from behind, spun him and pressed him up against the wall, holding him there with his own body and capturing his mouth. Wilson's breath turned heady and urgent and he tore at Houses clothes, just carefully enough to not pop the buttons on his shirt or tear the fabric (House had to work later). He made him shed his jacket, shirt and cane which clattered to the floor.
Wilson took his own shirt and tie off, turned House around so his backside was against the desk and slowly made him lie down across papers, pencils, erasers, whatever!
Wilson swallowed Houses tongue and sucked on his neck, eliciting a soft groan from House. Wilson caught sight of that throat when House lay his head back and sucked at Houses skin like a starving vampire. "Fuck, I've missed you." Wilson whispered into his ear.
Wilsons cock was rock hard. He wanted to do House until next week! But that's not he had planned. He wanted to give House a home-coming present and the thought made Wilson's cock wet with pre-cum. God, House is sexy -- fuck me! He could hardly stand the wait.
Wilson wanted to make it slow and hot but he was too dizzy with lust for that. House was going to a get an office quickie. Wilson unzipped Houses jeans and slid them and his boxers to his knees. He took a moment to drink in the sight of a nearly all naked House lying on his desk and for all intents and purposes, helpless. House did pull off sexy and helpless so well.
Wilson, supporting himself on his forearms, got his face right down into House and swiftly took his hardening cock into his mouth, swallowing deeply and hungrily. He sucked all the way down until he nearly gagged. But pulled back and then, using his fist to increase the pressure and pleasure, using every trick in the book he sucked House until he was squirming and panting and moaning for it.
Once House was at orgasm, Wilson caught up his mouth with his own again and swallowed the groans and gasps of Houses violent come.
After what seemed a long time, Houses hips stopped bucking and he lay back like a rag doll.
Wilson lay his weight down on him and kissed his lips tenderly, talking to him in whispered, atomic words. "I love you. I fucking love you, you sexy goddamn son-of-a-bitch. I love your mouth and your body and especially your tasty cock. I can hardly control myself around you and that sweet cock of yours, I fucking love it so much! Oh, god, House, I want you forever. I love you, I love you..."
Wilson lifted his mouth off of Houses neck and stared down at him, little swirls of salted worry shining in his dark irises's. "D-do you...love me?"
Oh the fear in those three words.
House stared back, his flushed face back to neutral. Wilson's little office treat had left him exhausted. He looked steadily into Wilson's eyes, his own inscrutable, until Wilsons worry lines deepened around his eyes. Until he looked on the edge of his newly built hope collapsing all around him.
Then House, when he knew Wilson was as ripe as he'd ever be, reached up and kissed Wilson back. "You're an idiot, you know that? Of course I love you." Then he smiled a little. "I've missed you too. Now hand me my damn pants."