Wilson Loses Control

[damigella]

Summary: At his parents' fiftieth wedding anniversary Wilson discovers that one of his relatives by marriage has a previous acquaintance with House. H/W established. Dedicated to coconut_ice22 for her birthday, because she, like me, appreciates sick_house as much as sick_wilson.
Rating: PG-13 for adult themes.
Warning: violence, homophobia.
Word Count: ~1200
Note: written for Camp sick_wilson's Random Items Challenge by _slytherin_girl [a pink frilly birthday hat, Idaho (the state, not the potato) and House's left knee.]
Further Note: written in an airport, on a plane, on a train. I traveled 7 hours today, changed currency and language and (damnit) weather.

"I hate kids' parties. No booze." House looked around himself: the Wilsons' living room was a hideous orgy of pink, Disney figures, and balloons. It sounded like three dozens kids were screaming at the same time, although possibly the number was much less and they were just very, very loud.

"My parents are just hosting a small celebration for my niece's fifth birthday, two hours altogether. It's good to have all the family together, and I'm so proud that you finally belong to it."

A high-pitched voice came from the group of little girls. "Uncle Jim! Come here!'

"In a moment, darling!" Brown eyes looked pleading at House. "Please behave yourself."

House glanced at his own clothes, and felt he was on his best behavior already. Still, Wilson had been a bundle of nerves since at least one hour before parking the car in front of his parents' place. Probably since he came out to them about House being now more than a friend. House had tried to play the "why should we celebrate your parents' marriage when we can't become husbands" card, but Wilson had immediately countered that he would accept this excuse and not attend only if House was willing to get a civil union, and he had folded - the thought of becoming in any sense Mrs Wilson 4th was too unappealing.

"I will, Wilson. Can you answer a quick question?"

"Sure, but then I have to go."

"Where did you say your cousin Lydia lives now? Was it Iowa or was it Idaho?"

"I can't remember. I always confuse those two states anyway. How important can it be?"

House shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, not at all. Go to Ariadne now."

High-pitched screams followed, and soon Wilson was on all fours, a pink, frilly birthday hat with "Birthday Princess" written in glitter perched on his head, while giggling pre-school girls took turns "riding the cute horsie" around the living room, amidst the laughter of the extended family.

*****
The air on the back porch was cool and quiet. House could barely hear the party going on in the living room and kitchen. He popped a Vicodin and wished he could have a whiskey, or at least a cigarette. Dating an oncologist did suck. On the other hand, Wilson. Suck. House sighed with longing at the thought of what they would do once back in their hotel room.

Wilson's parents hadn't yet allowed them to share a bed in their home. Deep moral reasons, apparently. A voice distracted him from his thoughts, covering a chasm of a couple of yards and more than 30 years.

"So you're Dr. House now. And yet, you're still Greg the faggot, now getting fucked by my wife's cousin."

"Glad to see you too, Ian. I didn't think you would find the courage to talk to me unless you had four friends to hold me."

"You were so much taller and stronger than me, of course I needed help. I couldn't let a faggot like you beat me in every sport the way you did. I think you still remember your punishment?"

For a very long minute, House did. The pain, the shame, the lies to his mother. Luckily their Idaho stay was short, little more than one month during a mission abroad of his father. They left days after the incident.

"You do, don't you? And now you're a cripple, and I'm a strong man."

"I'd say a stupid bastard. You've barely changed, and I think this holds for your education as well. Last I heard you had done time for pretending to be a pastor and trying to cheat old ladies out of their savings. Funny how much one can learn from family gossip."

"Damn you, Gregory House. You clearly need another lesson."

The movement was surprisingly fast, and House lost his balance: his cane slipped away, and he fell down, a sharp pang of pain as his left knee banged on the edge of the lowest of the stone stairs. And then more pain, as Ian kicked precisely on the wounded knee. This time something clearly broke inside his leg and pain skyrocketed: House thought he could hear Wilson shouting, but then his vision went black.

*****

"Can't we just go back to Princeton?" House realized he sounded whiny and didn't care a damn. He had a right to whine, dammit.

"We have to stay here for the process. Possibly processes, if I get indicted too. Cuddy granted us both paid leave for medical reasons."

"I still could diagnose people while sitting." House looked down with disgust at the white cast enveloping his left leg, which stuck out horizontally from the wheelchair.

"And you also did, from your hospital room. And you'll keep doing it. My parents said we can use their internet connection, phone and fax."

"Can't we just go back to the hotel? I want to have you near me in the night, in a bed, not be in pain alone on your mom's couch."

Wilson tried to scratch his left wrist, and his own cast prevented him. He wondered whether House was itching, too.

"We'll be sleeping in their bedroom, it's the only one on the ground floor. My parents will sleep in my room until we can both go back to Princeton. They've had a ramp added to the front stairs so you can get in and out."

A car parked in front of them, and Wilson's father came out of it. "Hi Jimmy, hi Greg. Sorry I kept you waiting. I was on the phone with your lawyer, Jimmy, he said there should be no process against you. Apparently Ian has precedents for homophobic violence as well."

"What an asshole. I hope Lydia is divorcing him."

"She seemed quite decided, and she went back without waiting for the process."

House growled. "I hope he doesn't get back to Idaho for quite a while. Unless he gets transferred to a prison there."

Wilson's father smiled at him. "Don't worry. Although after what Jimmy did to him, he'll first have to stay in hospital a while." He was obviously beaming.

"I'm not proud of it, dad. I'm a doctor, not a street thug. But I had to get him away from House… from Greg. And when I saw what he had done I… I just lost control."

Wilson had refused to discuss what had happened, but House had heard the details from his mother who had seen most of it. Apparently it had taken four strong men to restrain him, saving Ian from being kicked to death, and his partner from a long prison sentence.

"I'm proud of you, my son. We've rescheduled the anniversary dinner so that you can both take part." He winked at House. "My wife has found a rabbi willing to perform a ceremony for the two of you. I'm afraid from now on you'll have two Wilsons pestering you to get married, Greg."

Wilson's cheeks reddened slightly, as he helped House climb into the back of his father's car. "I'm sorry, apparently I lost a bit control on my words as well while beating Ian up. My parents… uh… overheard."

House smiled at him and glanced at Wilson's father, who was busy with folding the wheelchair. House lowered his voice. "I'm only sorry I couldn't witness it. And I hope I'll get to see you lose control this very night in your own parents' bed." His hand briefly grazed the fly of Wilson's slacks.

Wilson managed to fit the safety belt around him, then kissed him and whispered back in his ear "Make that fifteen minutes after we're home."