Wilson's Life, Chapter 2

[damigella]

Title: Wilson's Life
Spoilers: Season 7 Ep 18: AU after that.
Summary: Wilson thinks his problems are over when they're just beginning. A sequel to House's Liver. Since I'm a teacher at heart, in each chapter someone will learn something. Not necessarily the truth, or the whole truth. Seven Chapters.
Rating: M for suicidal ideas, adult themes and language, possible slash.
Word Count: ~11000 total.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the House, MD characters, which is good since I tend to kill them.
Acknowledgements: I used hwshipper 's timeline. Any merit must be shared with my patient, wonderful beta reader, George Stark II.

Chapter 2

Summary: Dominika learns something about House and Wilson

"House, I love you."

House closed his eyes and enjoyed the momentary rush of endorphins that usually accompanied the solution of a medical case: Wilson's admission was the equivalent of a positive blood test. Then he opened his eyes again and wondered whether forcing such an admission hadn't been a hasty decision. Wilson seemed positively scared; he could see the blood pulsating in his jugular vein, and he was panting slightly, like after a physical effort.

"I just wanted to know. We don't have to discuss this now. Or ever." He wondered whether Wilson would try to touch him, and was relieved and angry at the same time when he realized that he wasn't going to.

"No, of course not. Unless you want to. Is there anything you need? Because I want to go to bed, I'm very tired." Wilson was standing now, leaning on the doorframe. He looked ready to run away.

House sighed. "A beer is out of the question, right?"

Wilson wrinkled his forehead. "I bought several kinds of non-alcoholic beer. You might want to give one of them a try."

"Bring two. We can have one each and swap halfway." When Wilson winced, he added "It's not more unsanitary than tongue kissing, you know?"

Wilson came back with the open bottles and gave one to House, who gestured to him to take back his place on the bed. House then took a long gulp, and had to admit to himself that the stuff wasn't bad. He looked at the bottle - expensive imported stuff. No wonder it was so good. And then he had an idea.

"Wilson?"

"Yes?" The brown eyes seemed to look for something burrowed deep in the bottom of the beer bottle.

"I want you to sleep in this bed."

"That's nonsense. You should sleep here."

"I will, but it's wide enough for two. Just no weird moves and keep your hands to yourself, okay?"

"Why…why would you want me to?"

"It felt good. You know, in the hospital."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"It's not a good idea for me to be alone. This way I won't have to shout if I need something in the night."

"Of course. I'll go and change in the other room."

Ten minutes later, House heard bare feet approaching, and a sigh. Then the mattress moving under Wilson's weight. He pretended to be asleep for a while, quietly enjoying the warmth so near him. Then he rolled over, until he was near enough to recognize the body smell that had kept him company through the longest hours of that dreary night. He wondered why he found it so comforting while he fell asleep.

*******

Wilson lay in the dark next to what seemed to be a sleeping House, and tried to think. He couldn't. His brain kept repeating the conversation until the avowal, perversely suggesting alternative statements and diversion strategies which he might have employed had he been smarter. Not just useless thoughts but clearly bogus; once House had decided he had to confess, he had had no choice in the matter.

His memory went back to the long night he had spent awake, alternating affectionate gestures when House was, or seemed, conscious and just learning as much as possible of the shape of his face, the smell of his body and the texture of his skin when he wasn't. Fearing that he would soon be lost forever, and yet hoping, hoping until the last possible minute.

He felt House rolling closer, his breath warm on his neck. He noticed his own heartbeat slowly reacting, not with excitement but with some weird kind of solace, as if House's barely perceptible snores were all that was needed to ensure his happiness. His own breathing became more regular, and he fell asleep without noticing.

*******

House was woken up the next morning by the enticing smell of freshly brewed coffee. Soon he was eating pancakes with bacon, hoping that his new liver would be up to the task. After breakfast Wilson cleaned up while he slouched on the couch and switched on the television. Soon Wilson sat near him. He checked on his watch: Dominika would arrive soon. A good moment to start a serious conversation without it becoming annoying long.

He switched off the television. "I thought about what you said yesterday."

Wilson didn't quite look at him, or not for more than a second. "And? What did you decide?"

"That we can keep sleeping together as we did last night. I sleep better when I'm not alone. Unless it's a problem for you."

"Is this all you've thought?" Wilson looked confused.

"That, and I need time away from you. Time to think. How about a few hours every day?"

Now the oncologist was looking at him. "I can't leave you alone. What if you get sick? You're still recovering from major surgery and the anti-rejection drugs make your immune system weaker."

"I'm a doctor, Wilson. That's what the MD after my name stands for. I know. And I won't be alone. I'll be with Dominika."

Wilson looked like he had been stabbed, but nodded his assent. "I could try and schedule some patient visits. They'll be happy to see me even if they have another attending oncologist."

House suddenly realized that Wilson couldn't possibly know he had no intention of sleeping with his so-called wife: he was probably simply jealous. He felt almost sorry for him.

In that moment, there was a knock at the door; Wilson stood up and let Dominika in. After the greetings, Wilson said "I should go shopping for groceries. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Will you call me if there's a problem, Dominika?"

House was impressed. "You'll find lunch when you come back!" Wilson managed a very small smile, and left.

******

Dominika smiled and went to sit near her husband. She had noticed how fast Wilson had gone, and she imagined this had been arranged so that they could be alone together. She started pulling his face near hers, and was very surprised when he gently but firmly stopped her. "Please, no. You can tidy up if you want, or watch television or just do nothing. But… I don't want to be touched. And please be quiet. I need to think and make some phone calls."

She was surprised, but not totally so. Maybe he was still hurting after the surgery, or maybe he was just in a bad mood. Since the kitchen was very much in order she went to tidy up in the bedrooms. And then she noticed. Only one bed had been slept in.

So that's why Wilson was so caring, and why her "husband" didn't want her to touch him. Why had he kissed her at all on their wedding night, then? And hadn't he been supposedly in love with his boss until little more than a month ago? She cleaned up the bathroom while thinking, noticing that also in this case only one had been used.

She briefly wondered whether they had showered together, but decided to ignore such thoughts in the future. If House was so fast in changing his mind, she figured out he might also change it back and become interested in her. In the meantime, she would do what he wanted her to - it certainly wasn't too hard.

When she went back to the living room, House was on the phone. She got the last bit of his conversation, which had apparently started while she was cleaning the bathroom and couldn't hear.

"Yes, I think that would fit perfectly. Great. I'll give three of your clinic hours to the others. Thanks, bye."

*******

Wilson spent one hour drinking a very large and very sweet latte in a nearby coffee shop and one hour grocery shopping. When he came back home he found House and Dominika cooking together.

Over lunch they arranged that Dominika would come every morning at nine thirty and stay until after lunch time. She also promised to take care of laundry and ironing. After lunch they drove to a nearby park and House had his first "walk" outside - five minutes, after which he basically collapsed on a bench. He wasn't even angry when, once they decided to leave thirty minutes later, Wilson suggested that he use a wheelchair. He didn't go as far as saying "Thank you," of course, but he didn't even try to put up a fight.

Once they got home Dominika asked whether they needed anything, collected Wilson's laundry and left. Wilson looked at House in a questioning way. "Did you tell her to go away so early? It wasn't necessary, you know."

House smiled back to him. "I didn't tell her anything. In fact, I didn't talk to her at all while you were gone. But my wife's smart, and she tidied the bedrooms. Or, rather, the bedroom."

Wilson was as powerless at fighting his blood spreading color on his cheeks as he was at halting the smile that slowly took hold of his face. House had obviously planned this, and he wasn't going to complain.

*****

Wilson felt his cheeks almost redden again as he replied to Dominika's polite greetings on Monday morning when he let her in. His work bag was ready and he quickly took his leave, feeling a totally unreasonable comfort in the knowledge that she would find the guest bedroom as pristine as it had been two days ago.

He had already called both Cuddy and Sandy to inform them that he would be in to work every day 10-12, but he didn't plan to follow any patient personally. He wanted to be free in case there was any problem with House's recovery - he told Cuddy he was just scared about transplant rejection and not about a possible relapse into either Vicodin or alcohol use, but he couldn't very well lie to himself.

Once he was in his office, he slipped on his lab coat and went to see some of his former patients in the ped ward; he knew how important familiar faces were to children. On his way back to the office ninety minutes later he felt almost grateful to House for making him do this. Thinking of Sasha's thankful smile when she had seen him almost made him want to cry. He had been a constant presence for about half of her too-short life, and now he would have a chance to be so until the end. Probably next week - he hated being a good oncologist sometimes.

He sat in his office and switched on his computer, wondering whether he should catch up with the literature (something he could also do at home) or help Brown out with the department's paperwork. He decided to send an email to Brown and let him arrange an appointment for one of the next days, and was glad to receive an answer almost immediately, with a proposal to meet on Wednesday morning.

As he started going through the summary of what looked like an interesting paper, he heard a soft knock on the door. "Come in," he said without lifting his head, figuring out it was probably Sandy. An unexpected female voice answered "Good morning Dr. Wilson. Can we have lunch together today?"