Fandom: House MD
Pairing: House/Wilson, slashy if you squint.
Notes and warnings-spoilers thru Que Sera Sera. No fluff here kiddies. Thanks to Beta Goddess Carol for telling me that my 200 words needed a lot more to meet my usual standards.
Summary: House's pain through Wilson's eyes.
Wilson tried to calm himself. He was annoyed with House for forging his name on a prescription, but he was livid at the cop. How dare he try to trivialize House’s pain?
House’s pain was real. Wilson’s world revolved around that fact.
He’d written ever-increasing prescriptions and sacrificed two marriages to try and keep it at bay, even though his pills and his presence could barely touch the combination of physical agony from the dead muscle along with the failures and betrayal that had left House a cripple.
Wilson knew that House was incapable of acknowledging any pain beyond his own. Chase’s loss, Cameron’s hopeless longing, the hurt that Wilson felt over Julie… they all meant nothing to him compared to the reality of his own daily struggle. House had made a religion out of his own pain and Wilson was free to worship or be excommunicated for implying that there was anything psychosomatic about it. He’d taken his punishment and gone back to full-fledged belief and sacrifice before the altar.
When House had been pain-free for a few weeks, Wilson had been happy for him, and strangely at a loss, wondering where he fit into House’s life now. When the first twinges came back, he’d tried to deny the possibility, fearful that his own need to be needed might be forced into the light. The resulting estrangement had been more painful than anything Wilson had experienced with his wives.
Now that he’d been accepted back into the fold, Wilson had committed himself to providing Vicodin, puzzles and whatever else House would accept from him beyond the persistently mooched food.
He’d do anything for House, even if House couldn’t see past his own pain to understand why.
Why not lie to the police? He’d been lying to himself for years.