Deep Scars (A House/Wilson Story)
House and Wilson were sitting together in the cafeteria of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. "What do you have for lunch?" Wilson asked the older doctor. "Oh…the usual," House replied. Wilson thought he looked a little guilty, so he reached over and flipped open House's lunchbox- why did House have a lunchbox? -and it was full of little white pills. Vicodin. House looked at Wilson and grinned evilly. He dry swallowed a pill. Then he popped two more. Then two more. Then-
Wilson screamed and sat up in bed, panting. House, awakened, turned his head and mumbled, "Wilsonnnnn… go back to sleep…" Wilson just gave him a horrified look and couldn't answer. House sat up as well, rubbing his eyes. "What?" he asked. Wilson just shook his head, unable to answer. "You have a nightmare?" House asked, looking mildly concerned.
Wilson hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah," he whispered. "You wanna talk about it?" House asked while he softly stroked Wilson's back. "Yeah," Wilson said again, and threw his arms around House's neck in a close embrace. House hugged him tightly, murmuring soft and gentle words into Wilson's ear. This was not something he did often. Wilson attributed it to sleep deprivation.
"It's gonna be okay," House promised. Wilson shuddered, and a few stray tears splashed onto House's shoulder. House wound his fingers into Wilson's soft hair, letting them get tangled, knowing Wilson would tell him what was wrong when he felt like it.
"You were back on Vicodin," Wilson whispered finally, squeezing House even tighter. You had a whole box, and you…you…"
"Shhh," House said, touched beyond words that Wilson would cry like that for him. He knew he could be cold sometimes; he knew he hurt Wilson sometimes, unintentionally, knew he hurt the one he treasured most and often pushed away Wilson's comfort and love. So when Wilson cried for him, out of that love…House almost broke down himself. Almost.
"I would never, ever go back to Vicodin, I promise," he told Wilson. "Not if it would hurt you." He continued to hold Wilson until Wilson's sobs stopped; until his fragile-seeming body stopped shaking from the force of the tears, and then House bent down and kissed Wilson's face until all the tears were gone and his face was dry.
Wilson sighed contentedly into House's neck, then slid down so his head was resting on House's chest as they lay back down. He took House's hand and wove their fingers together. He closed his eyes.
"House?" he said quietly. "Yeah?" House answered. "I love you," Wilson said, kissing House gently. In the dark bedroom, a tiny smile spread across House's face, but Wilson didn't see it.
"Wilson?" House asked after a few minutes. "Yes, House?" Wilson said, his eyes still shut. "Go back to sleep," House squeezed Wilson's hand in a conveyance of the three words he couldn't say because they stuck in his throat and threatened to fog up his eyes.
A fleeting smile, full of happiness and warmth, flashed over Wilson's face for a split second before sleep claimed him again. This time, he had only sweet dreams.