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Fetal Position and Comfort
by Autie
He hadn't heard the door open. He didn't hear it shut. He didn't even notice when I turned on the small light on the stand by his phone, which I noticed with some aggravation he had taken off the hook. He didn't even seem to notice as I just stood to the side of the couch studying him.
I had watched the surgery. I wouldn't have seen it, only I noticed that mid procedure he stopped, those eyes widening and I knew something was wrong. I shifted closer to the window and mentally pushed the nurse obstructing my view to move and somehow she did. All thoughts of my mental powers however vanished when I saw that tiny hand try to grasp House's finger. It isn't often when it happens, but there are occasions when House's world gets shaken to the core and I could tell from the look in those gorgeous blue eyes of his, this was one.
I had searched for him after the procedure, but he had managed to vanish. I caught up with Cuddy just after she had given him a first class ticket for a vacation. I know House as much as anyone can and I had the feeling he would not leave. It was confirmed as I stood here in faint lamplight I provided, no booze, no tv. Just darkness, one hand clamped down on his bad leg in an attempt to ward off pain and the other hand, the one that the baby had grasped, the thumb slowly circling the spot on his finger the baby had grabbed. House's world, the foundation he built all those walls of sarcasm, contempt, and general misanthropy on had been rocked.
Words caught in my throat. This was House I was dealing with. Any platitudes or expressions of overt caring would be tossed back in my face in the meanest manner possible. Most would run, and I knew he counted on that, but I knew tonight, no matter how vicious he would get I would not leave him like this. He was still looking at his hand, watching his thumb rub circles on his finger as if he was throughly entranced on the movements of his hand. It was the same look of shock, disbelieve, awe and just perhaps a little anger that something, that someone had caused him this reflection, this reevaluating of his world.
Tears are starting to form in my eyes even as I try to fight them. I want to haul this man into my arms and, and, and what? Comfort him. I snort at the thought of anyone actually trying to comfort Greg House. Believe it or not, he has let me try a few times and it doesn't end well. This breaks him out of his trance.
Blue eyes, instantly defensive and radiating anger and indignity meet mine. My hands go up in a self defensive measure, "Just don't House. For once keep your scathing remarks to yourself. I am not here to pity you or anything so unacceptable. Just indulging myself in a few human emotions, you know, a friend's concern. You are fine. Goodbye."
I turn and head for the door when I hear a crash. There was House, curled up on the floor beside his coffee table in a fetal position, grabbing his leg. Muffled curses and cries coming from his curled up form. I know my actions are going to come back to bite me in the ass, but I can't help going to him, for once I would like him to come to me. Maybe he was, maybe that was how he ended up on the floor. I bite down on my hopes, but then to my utter shock he grabs my hand and levers himself into my arms. I end up on the floor myself. It is an awkward embrace, made even more so by House's tears that are rapidly soaking through my shirt, but I will sit here as long as he needs this. Then we will never speak of it again. He will treat me with something akin to loathing and contempt in the morning if we are still like this. He will probably will avoid me for a few weeks after. Maybe longer, he has never actually cried in my arms before. For now though, I will hold him close and comfort him the way I want to, the way he rarely gives me the opportunity to.
Author's Note- Not sure about continuing this as I don't think this is my best work. Seems kind of disjointed at places. Then again, this is my first House fic, so some bumps and general awkwardness should be expected. My idea would be to continue with the aftermath of House actually falling apart in Wilson's arms perhaps with some nice comfort sex between the two, not of course that House would call it that.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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