| |
Enchanted Design
by Jaryn
Prologue
Caroline
Caroline moved slowly around the circle of dark purple candles, planted on the wooden floors of her attic, lighting them one by one with a match.
She then sat in the middle of the circle, organising the lavender, rosemary and other ingredients - including two strips of clothing - in front of her. The two strips of clothing she had obtained after much difficulty from two doctors, one of which had saved her son's life some months ago.
Dr. Gregory House.
Caroline felt that she had to repay House for saving her son, but thought she could help House more by giving him something he needed, rather than something he wanted. Though the spell also involved someone else - Dr. Wilson, House's friend - Caroline was sure it would benefit them both. After mixing the strips of clothing with the various ingredients and holding each scrap in separate hands, Caroline began to chant.
"Holy Mother, Goddess Divine, I stand before your sacred shrine. This person won't listen or hear, words tickle at a deafened ear. This person won't look or see, that which is plainly to be. Holy Mother, Goddess Divine, awaken the mind, send these two men your enchanted design, clear out the cobwebs, tear down their walls, carry my message through spirit calls."
At the end of the chant, Caroline clapped both hands together, with the strips of clothing, and all the candles went out at once.
Chapter 1
Wilson
Everything was wrong.
Wilson knew that before he was even half-way conscious. The blankets felt too heavy, the pillow under his head felt too thin, but most of all...his entire body felt very peculiar.
Rising quickly up into a sitting position, Wilson pushed the blankets away and looked down at his legs that...weren't his legs. Except they were. They were definitely attached to him anyway. His right thigh felt stiff and was aching. It also felt weaker than the left. Wilson tried to move it and swore loudly as a blast of pain radiated up into his hip and along his spine.
Wilson's mind froze. His voice was wrong too. In fact, he sounded just like House. Why did he sound like House? And...wasn't this House's bedroom? House's bed?
"Oh holy God," Wilson said faintly, again freaked out when he heard House's voice coming out of his mouth. His mouth? Raising a trembling hand Wilson touched his face, trailing fingertips over stubble, thin cheeks, a long nose.
In a sudden panic, Wilson tried to escape from the bed only to collapse to the floor when his leg gave out on him. He cried out and clutched at his thigh with both hands, gritting his teeth against the pain.
House
When House woke up, he figured he was having one of those dreams where you only dream you've woken up, but are actually still sleeping. The room was dark but he could feel that he was lying on an unfamiliar couch, even though he definitely remembered falling asleep in his bed. The most telling clue that he was dreaming, however, was the complete lack of pain.
His body felt weird too, definitely very weird. House moved a hand down to his right thigh, rubbing it. There were no ridges of scars and no indent of missing muscle. Just a perfectly normal feeling thigh.
House smiled a little; apparently this was a good dream, weird or not. Moving to sit up on the side of the couch, House paused a moment before cautiously standing up, instinctively resting most of his weight on his left leg. When there was still no pain, House put more weight on his right until he was standing with his weight evenly on both legs. He hadn't been able to stand like this in years and for a long moment House stayed where he was, enjoying the sensation.
Deciding to test this further, House took a step forward, and then another, and then another, until he'd made it all the way across the room - though not without first running into a coffee table. Groping at the wall House eventually found a light switch and flicked it on. He winced as the light blinded him and closed his eyes before opening them a crack to let them adjust.
As his vision cleared, House realised he knew this room; it was the living room in Wilson's new apartment. Why was he dreaming about being in Wilson's living room? Lifting a hand up, House stared at it for a few long minutes. Then he walked quickly over to the mirror hanging on the wall nearby and looked into it.
"What the hell?" House muttered, seeing Wilson looking back at him.
Wilson
It took at least five minutes for the pain to subside. When it did, Wilson let go of his thigh and collapsed onto his back, breathing hard. He had to be dreaming, Wilson thought. This was just some really bizarre and realistic feeling dream.
Sitting up, Wilson looked around the shadowed bedroom and then brought his hands up, palms to the ceiling, and stared at them. How...? His mind couldn't seem to get past that one word for a long time. The evidence was there but Wilson's mind refused to take it in. He was in House's bedroom. He was in...House's body?
The phone suddenly started ringing and Wilson jumped, his heart missing a beat. Getting to his feet was a struggle but somehow he managed it, though he wasn't even sure why he was bothering; it wasn't his phone after all. Using the bed to brace himself, Wilson managed to move closer to the bedside table and picked up the phone, saying a shaky "Hello?"
"Wilson?" Wilson blinked slowly, a purposeful opening and closing of his eyes. That was his voice, saying his name. "Wilson, it's me, House."
"House?" Wilson sagged onto the bed and pressed a hand against his face.
"We switched bodies," House stated and he sounded way to calm for Wilson's liking.
"I'm dreaming."
"If you're dreaming, we're having the same dream," House said.
Wilson took his hand off his face and gestured in the air, "This is.... There's no way.... This is insane!"
"Does my voice always sound like I've just swallowed a mouthful rocks?"
"House!" Wilson had a brief urge to throw the phone across the room. "This is a scientific impossibility!"
"Look, don't...do anything. I'm coming over there," House said and the phone went dead.
For the time it took for House to arrive, Wilson had found House's cane and made it into the living room, with the help of anything else he could hold onto and a lot of cursing. How the hell did House do this so easily? His - House's? - leg was a bushfire of burning pain. Of course, that could be because he'd fallen out of bed.
At the sound of a knock on the door, Wilson stood up from where he'd perched himself on the couch's armrest and hobbled over to open it, sweating with the strain. He nearly fell over backwards when he saw himself standing in the hallway.
"Weird," was all House said, staring back at Wilson. He pushed past and closed the door, his expression critical as he continued staring. "What's wrong with you?"
"Pain," Wilson gasped. "I fell out of your bed."
House frowned and then disappeared into the bedroom. He came back with a bottle of Vicodin, opening it and tapping a pill out while he walked. "Idiot," he said, holding it out for Wilson.
"I need water," Wilson said, taking the pill and making his painful way back to the couch. House disappeared again, coming back with a glass of water. Wilson took it and swallowed the pill before lying down on his back. "I am dreaming," he tried to insist again.
"Fine, you're dreaming," House said in an obvious `I'm humouring you' way.
Wilson closed his eyes and then snapped them open again when he heard House moving around. "What are you doing?" Wilson asked, looking over at him and watching as House clenched and opened his hands. His hands.
"Testing," House said and looked over at him. "I didn't know you worked out."
"What? I don't."
House looked incredulous. "Right, well, obviously you've got the worst end of the deal."
"Did I say dream? Because I think I meant nightmare," Wilson decided out loud and closed his eyes again.
"The Vicodin will kick in soon," House assured him, walking back over and sitting down on the edge of the couch. A moment later Wilson felt a gentle hand on his painful thigh, rubbing slowly up and down.
"What're you doing?" Wilson asked again faintly; the pill was finally taking effect and he was starting to feel a little out of it.
"Relax. It helps."
House
It was an odd feeling, touching himself through someone else's body, House thought. Not as weird as being in someone else's body, however. By the looks of it, Wilson was starting to doze off, but House continued the massage for a few more minutes, using the time to think.
It was nearing four in the morning and they were both due at work at nine - or at least, Wilson was. House was due when he felt like being due.
Either way, there was no way that they could go to the hospital as they were. House still wasn't sure if he was dreaming or hallucinating, or what, but he decided - just in case - that it'd be best to treat everything as if it were real. Therefore, he needed to come up with some plausible idea to get both himself and Wilson out of work for the foreseeable future.
Death in the family? Medical emergency? Wilson had gone off the rails and House had to take care of him? House liked the last one best.
Sensing that Wilson was now completely asleep, House got to his feet and walked into the kitchen. Moving around in such a strong, pain-free body was kind of a rush, it almost made him want to go out for a jog. He still couldn't believe that Wilson didn't work out. House didn't think he was that unfit, even with his leg. Then again, Wilson was ten years younger, so maybe that was all it was.
In the kitchen, House went about making coffee, knowing that he was unlikely to be able to sleep anyway. While he was waiting for the water to boil, House found himself staring at his - Wilson's - hands. They were extremely familiar, even as familiar as his own. House wasn't sure why that struck him as strange - he had known Wilson for a long time after all.
When the coffee was ready, House took his cup into the living room and sat down on the chair across from the couch, settling himself in to wait until Wilson woke up
Chapter 2
Wilson
Wilson woke slowly, feeling groggy, and had to force his eyelids to open. As last night's event came back to him, he quickly raised a hand to look at it. It wasn't his.
"This cannot be happening."
"Keep saying that and it might just come true."
Wilson rolled his head to see House-in-his-body sitting on the chair nearby, drinking coffee. It was bizarre to hear his voice with House's heavy sarcasm and familiar inflections infused into it. Wilson cautiously sat up, one hand braced at the top of his right thigh. "Have you been sitting there all night?" Wilson asked.
"No, not all night. I got up about an hour ago to ring the hospital."
Wilson's eyes widened at that, "What time is it?"
"It's eight o'clock. Don't worry, we've both got the rest of the week off."
"Three days? What did you say to manage that?"
House made a face, "You don't want to know."
Wilson decided he probably didn't want to know. "What are we going to do?" Wilson asked, looking down at his body - he'd decided just to think of it as his, for the time being - with apprehension.
"We'll figure something out," House replied, still sounding irritatingly calm.
"There's no...differential diagnosis for switching bodies, House!" Wilson spluttered. A suspicious thought entered his mind - that maybe House didn't want to fix anything. That maybe he was happy being in a healthier, younger body. Wilson forced the thoughts away when a more pressing issue presented itself. Looking back over at House, Wilson eyed him with unease. "I uh...I need to pee."
"So go," House replied, looking wholly unaffected.
Wilson stared at him for a long moment, until something dawned on him. "You...you already went, didn't you?"
House gave him a mildly amused look before he pointed at his cup, "Four cups of coffee, what do you think?"
"Oh God," Wilson whimpered, moving to rub a hand over his face, only to quickly pull it away again. It didn't escape his attention that every time he touched `himself' he was actually touching House's body.
"Don't be such a wimp. It's a penis, we both have one. I'm relatively sure mine works the same as yours."
"I hate you," Wilson said, but he reached over and grabbed the cane before struggling to his feet. The bathroom seemed a long way away, with every un-coordinated step sending a stab of pain up from his thigh.
"You're doing that all wrong," House called out to him. "You've got to use the muscles in your shoulder, not your hand."
Wilson didn't reply, but he grudgingly took House's words into practice and was able to move more easily. In the bathroom, Wilson stopped in front of the toilet, looking from it to his crotch and back again. Deciding to just get it over with, Wilson clamped his eyes shut and put a hand through the fly of House's pyjama's.
The relief of his bladder emptying thankfully took Wilson's mind off what it was, exactly, that he was holding in his hand. When he was finished, Wilson tucked himself back in and flushed the toilet before hobbling to the sink.
"You might want to think about taking a hot shower. It helps with the stiffness."
Wilson jumped at the unexpected intrusion, "Jesus! Do you mind?"
"Mind what? Walking in on myself in the bathroom?"
"It might be your body, but I am currently in it at the moment," Wilson said, washing and drying his hands. "Anyway, I meant not sneaking up on me."
"It's been a long time since I've been able to sneak at all, I had to give it a try," House told him. "Take a shower, my body needs one."
"There is...no way I am taking a shower. It was bad enough-" Wilson gestured at the toilet helplessly.
House folded his arms over his chest and leant against the doorframe, "So, you're saying you find my body horribly repulsive?"
"What? No!" Wilson's eyes widened, "That's not...I mean...." Groaning in frustration, Wilson leant back against the vanity.
House made an amused, scoffing sound. "Look, you don't have to touch anything. Just stand under the water - with your eyes closed if you have to."
"Fine," Wilson grimaced.
"I'll bring you some clean clothes," House said and turned around to leave.
Wilson sighed deeply, turning to look in the mirror. Of course he didn't find House's body repulsive...but that was kind of the problem.
House
The day passed slowly and torturously - or at least, House thought, it did for Wilson. Knowledge of what Wilson was going through made House stay in the apartment, despite the various wild ideas he had flying through his mind. For him, it was a little like a holiday - albeit, a very strange one.
Nothing came from a discussion of what might have caused their predicament. Magic, aliens, voodoo, a shift in time dimensional space? It all seemed ridiculous. But as time went on, House was slowly losing his hope that this was all a dream, and he had a feeling he wasn't the only one.
"Where's your laptop? I want to e-mail my staff," Wilson said out of the blue, while they sat on the couch staring at a muted TV.
"Why? You think they can't survive without you?" House scoffed but gestured over at his desk, which was covered in medical journals, "It's under there somewhere." Wilson grabbed House's cane and made his way over to the desk before starting to dump magazines out of the way. "I need a shower," House announced, after watching Wilson for a few seconds.
"What?" Wilson looked back over his shoulder in alarm. "You-."
"I should have brought more of your clothes with me," House mused, cutting Wilson off, and got to his feet. Something occurred to him then and he gave Wilson an measuring look. "By the way, why did I wake up on your couch?"
Wilson blinked at him, holding a journal frozen in the air, "I guess...I guess I just fell asleep there. What does it matter?"
"You didn't `just fall asleep' there," House said. "There was a pillow and blankets. And last time I checked you don't have a wife any more to kick you out of bed."
Wilson turned back to the desk and started moving journals again. "So I prefer sleeping on the couch sometimes, so what?"
House continued watching Wilson for a minute. A part of him was elated to find out something new and strange about Wilson. That was part of why House liked him so much, because he kept finding out these kind of things, even after years of friendship. But he was also truly curious to know why. House knew better to push any further though - at least not right away.
"Be sure to ignore all the porn," House finally said, when he saw that Wilson had finally uncovered his computer. Then he turned and went to his bedroom to see if he could find any of his clothes that might fit Wilson's body.
It wasn't until House was in the bathroom that he started to feel a little odd. He supposed he could understand Wilson's earlier reluctance to take a shower after all. Still, unlike Wilson it seemed, a part of House was just truly fascinated by the whole thing. By how different Wilson's body felt, the differences in his senses...everything.
Stripping out of Wilson's shirt, House looked at himself in the mirror, bringing a hand up to Wilson's smooth, pale chest. This was the most he'd ever seen of Wilson's body up close; for some reason the man covered himself up a lot. House didn't know why - from what he'd seen so far, Wilson had a nice body. House was even a little envious of it, and that wasn't all due to Wilson being whole and undamaged.
Breathing in deeply, House unzipped and unbuttoned Wilson's jeans before letting them fall to the floor and stepping out of them. This was now what he'd been wearing when he woke up; a pair of cotton boxers. Despite House's earlier cool response to already having used the toilet, he'd actually done the same thing Wilson had; closed his eyes and gotten it over with as quickly as possible.
Steeling himself, House slipped his thumbs into the waistband of the boxers and pushed them down. Unable to stop himself, House then looked back in the mirror, and stared, and kept on staring.
Chapter 3
Wilson
Trying to keep his mind off whatever House was doing in the bathroom (he really didn't want to know), Wilson sent off a short e-mail reminding his staff of various tasks that needed to be done while he was away. After sitting at House's desk for a minutes, he then got the idea to search the Internet for anything relating to `body switching'. Unfortunately, all Wilson could find on the subject were fictional incidences from books and films. (On a slight upside though, a review of `Freaky Friday' had him suddenly glad he'd switched bodies with House and not a member of his family).
If it was possible in reality though, to switch bodies, surely he and House weren't the only ones to experience it? Yet, there was nothing. The closest Wilson got to anything useful was hitting websites on `out-of-body' experiences, which wasn't at all the same thing as he quickly found.
Giving up, Wilson sighed and shut down the computer. How could this be a dream when it had gone on for so long now and felt so real? And yet...how could it be real either? It didn't make any sense. Unless he had had some kind of psychotic break, Wilson thought. That wasn't a comforting idea.
"You're no fun, Jimmy," House said, suddenly appearing in the room, "I was hoping to catch you snooping through my computer."
Wilson swivelled around in the chair and gave House an unimpressed look, "I'm not interested in your lesbian nurse porn."
"Killjoy. Lesbian nurse porn is the best kind of porn."
"Where did you put my car keys?" Wilson asked.
House raised his eyebrows, "Why?"
"Because you can't go around dressed like that," Wilson said, waving at him with one hand. "Your clothes look ridiculous on...well, me. I'll get you some of mine."
House frowned and looked down, "If you ask me, you could use with a bit of a wardrobe revamp," he said. "Anyway, I'm not letting you go out alone in my body. Who knows what you might get up to."
"Oh, yes, because I was secretly planning to rob a few banks, pawn off one of your kidneys and dye your hair blond," Wilson said, rolling his eyes.
House smirked for a moment, "Let's just go together, in case something else drastic happens. Besides, it'll be easier on you if I drive, trust me."
Wilson opened his mouth to argue further, but then just sighed, "Okay, fine, but let's get some food as well then. If I'm staying here I want to be able to eat more than peanut butter sandwiches and canned soup."
When they got to his apartment, Wilson was surprised - and a little irritated - when House followed him inside.
"I'm only going to be a minute," Wilson said, but House only shrugged and gazed around.
Wilson eyed House suspiciously for a moment before shaking his head and going into his bedroom. There he collected a bagful of clothes and his wallet before picking up some toiletries in the bathroom. Walking back out into the living room where he had left House, Wilson saw him over by the fireplace with something in his hand.
Getting closer, Wilson realised it was the one framed photo that he had of the two of them. He'd had it for ages, but had never had it out in the open until he'd moved in to his new apartment. And then, he'd only done so on a whim.
Embarrassed, Wilson cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow when House turned to look at him. "I'm ready."
"I don't remember this being taken," House said, holding up the photo frame.
"That's not surprising. I think you were drunk at the time," Wilson replied, shifting his weight on the spot restlessly. "It was that charity ball a few years ago."
"Huh." House put the photo back on the mantel and looked around again, "You know, this apartment is a lot like mi-."
"Let's go," Wilson interrupted and moved towards the front door. House, thankfully, followed him out without another word and Wilson locked the door after them.
When they arrived at a supermarket a few blocks away from House's apartment, House once again followed Wilson out of the car. Instead of pointing out that House didn't need to go in, Wilson just strode on ahead as fast as he could - which wasn't very fast at all.
Despite everything, Wilson had been developing a grudging respect for the pain House obviously went through every day. So far, he'd kept his Vicodin in-take to a bare minimum, but the craving for more was always there; though Wilson wasn't sure if that was because of the pain, or because House's body was addicted to the pain killer.
Wilson tried to ignore House as much as possible as they made their way through the super market. At least House was carrying the basket, which kept some of the strain off him.
"You're buying all this, right?" House asked when they turned into the pasta aisle.
Suspicious, Wilson stopped walking and turned around, looking into the basket to see House had added more items in when he hadn't been looking. "What in the hell is all that?"
"I believe it's known as food."
Wilson reached into the basket and pulled out a frozen meal box, "This is not food. You're not polluting my body with all this!"
"I'll pollute your body with whatever I like," House retorted.
An elderly woman stopped to peruse some goods nearby and gave them a speculative half-suspicious look. Wilson was horrified when House actually winked at her, vowing that he'd never come back to this supermarket again. House grabbed the packet back off him and returned it to the basket. "Anyway, you could use some more fat, honeybuns."
Wilson stared at House for a long, stunned moment. "Oh...God help me," was the only thing he managed to say before he turned around and walked off.
At the check-out, Wilson reluctantly pulled out his wallet, not having the energy to argue again about all the junk food. All he wanted to do was get back to House's apartment and get off his feet - not to mention out of the public eye.
House
When they got home, House watched as Wilson stalked off to lie down on his bed, leaving him to put away the groceries. For once, House didn't protest; he well recognised the pinched look on his own face, and he knew Wilson had to be taking his sudden disability hard. Hell, he still hadn't completely accepted it and the infarction in his leg had been six years ago now.
After putting everything away except a packet of greasy potato chips (he was determined to fatten Wilson up a little), House sat down on the couch. Turning on the TV, he surfed around until settling on a re-run of some old cartoon; he didn't care what it was, he just needed something mindless to switch off to. While he seemed to be taking things better than Wilson, House was still far from being comfortable.
Every movement was a little jarring, because it came with a strong sense of displacement. House may have been at odds with his own body, but at least it was his.
Being trapped in Wilson's body, and Wilson being trapped in his, forever, was not a pleasant thought. Yet, how were they going to change back when they had no idea what had happened in the first place?
It was a couple of hours before Wilson re-emerged from the bedroom, and he went straight into the kitchen without saying anything. House got up and stood in the doorway, watching Wilson make a late lunch for himself. Though Wilson was quiet, House sensed he was in a slightly better mood than earlier.
"Do you remember anything weird happening before you fell asleep on Tuesday night?" House asked.
Wilson paused in cutting up some lettuce for his sandwich and looked over at him. "No, nothing. Do you?"
"No," House sighed and went back to sit in front of the TV. Wilson joined him a minute later, eating his sandwich in silence.
House snatched glances at Wilson every now and then, thoughtful. "Maybe we should go into the hospital."
"What? Why?"
"We could run some tests," House suggested.
"Do you really think any known science can explain this?" Wilson asked, shifting so he was facing House more than the TV.
House looked between them, "Well...no, not really."
"And it's not like we can ask anyone for help. They'd have us in straightjackets and tiny white, padded cells before we could say `cuckoo'," Wilson said. "Also, I'm assuming we're supposed to be away sick or something."
"Yeah...or something," House said, with only a faint, faint trace of guilt before he looked back at the TV, ignoring Wilson's suspicious frown.
Chapter 4
Wilson
Wilson woke up early the next morning and was disorientated before he remembered where he was. House had actually let him have his bed, in an apparent fit of generosity (or perhaps just concern for his body), while he had taken the couch for himself. The Thigh was still bothering Wilson though. Every time he moved in his sleep the pain had woken him up. It made him hope House usually fared better, because Wilson thought he'd go insane if he never got a decent night's rest.
Then again, insanity from lack of sleep might explain a few things about House, Wilson considered.
Before even trying to sit up, he reached over to grab the Vicodin off the bedside table and managed to dry swallow one. He then lay there, waiting until it kicked in, and wondered if this was what House did every morning.
It was in a very belated way that Wilson realised he had an erection. The pain, at first, had masked any other sensation. His face heated up in embarrassment as the predicament of it set in.
Wilson squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again and shoving the blankets away. He then looked down, taking in the lurid sight of the sizable bulge in his pyjamas with a detached sense of curiosity.
Checking that the bedroom door was still closed, Wilson couldn't stop himself from reaching down to squeeze his - House's - erection through his pyjama pants. He bit back a moan at the shock of alien-yet-familiar pleasure. It was all he did before shame made him pull his hand away again.
A cold shower, Wilson decided, with a faint edge of desperation, as he sat up. And never mind that it would do nothing to help the pain in his leg.
In the bathroom, Wilson stripped naked with his eyes clamped resolutely closed before getting into the shower and standing hugging himself under a spray of icy water, gasping when his lungs tried to seize up. When the erection subsided he added hot water, relieved when the warmth began to seep into his chilled skin. Using the sponge House had in the shower, Wilson used it to wash perfunctorily, trying not to touch any 'private' areas with his bare hands.
Drying off was just as awkward, since he couldn't avoid touching everything if he actually wanted to be dry. And while Wilson tried to think of it impersonally, much as he did when he had to touch a patient, there was no avoiding it was House's body he was getting up close and personal with.
After Wilson dressed in a pair of House's jeans and a shirt he made his way out to the kitchen. House was still asleep on the couch and Wilson stood in the kitchen doorway for a few minutes, watching him, before the strangeness got too much and he had to look away.
Deciding that they could both probably do with a pick-me-up, Wilson set about making some pancakes, trying to make as little noise as possible. When they were ready he went into the living room and shook House's shoulder.
House
"Uhgn?"
House was slow at waking up, since he hadn't been able to get to sleep until around two in the morning. Cracking an eye open, House saw a blurred figure standing over him and forced himself to open both eyes, blinking rapidly until he could see properly.
"Rough night?" Wilson asked him, straightening up.
His body in Wilson's familiar poses looked very...strange, House thought as he sat up and straightened the t-shirt he was wearing. Noticing the mouth-watering smell that seemed to have overtaken his apartment, House brightened a little. "Hey, I recognise that smell."
Wilson smiled at him before walking back into the kitchen, "I'm surprised you didn't wake up at the scent alone."
Getting to his feet, House followed after him, his spirits lifting even higher as soon as he saw all the pancakes on the table. "Cooking for an army?"
"An army of one," Wilson agreed dryly, sitting down.
House joined him on the opposite side of the table, reaching greedily for the syrup. "Ah, Jimmy, why weren't you born a woman?" House asked and sighed theatrically. "I would marry you, fidelity problems and all."
Wilson laughed in that mixture of amusement and annoyance way he did, though House noticed that Wilson's eyes lingered a little on his before he looked down at his own plate. "Be glad that I wasn't born a woman, or you might be currently inhabiting a female body."
"That...is a disturbing thought," House replied, pouring nearly half of the syrup over his pancakes before picking up his knife and fork. "Though it might be fun for a day or two," he added with a smirk.
Wilson rolled his eyes and picked up his own cutlery, eating at a much more sedately pace. When House was full practically to bursting point, he sat back and let out a contented belch - and received a dirty look from Wilson because of it.
"So...it's Thursday, we have four more days to figure out how to switch our bodies back before things start getting really complicated," House said, scratching at his scruffy jaw - he hadn't shaved at all since waking up in Wilson's body. "And there's no way you could pull off being me."
Wilson frowned at him, "Wouldn't be that hard. I'd just have to go around being an asshole to everyone."
"Words hurt you know," House replied with a mock wounded look. "Anyway, you'd have to be an asshole and a genius if you were to do my job."
"You wouldn't be able to do my job either," Wilson said, touchily.
House smirked, "Oh, please, there's nothing to it with cancer. Of course, I wouldn't be able to pull off all that touchy feely stuff you do."
Wilson sighed and put down his knife and fork, "I thought we figured out already that we couldn't...well, figure anything out about this. What are we supposed to do, run full pelt at each other and hope we switch again during the collision?"
"You can't run," House pointed out, pointlessly. "And no, I was thinking more along the lines of...doing some research. Trying to find out if this has ever happened to anyone else."
"I...already did that. No luck."
House raised his eyebrows. Since when did he...? House started to wonder, before remembering Wilson's request to use his computer. He made a scornful noise, "Well of course you're not going to find anything on the Internet. I'm talking about real research. You know, libraries, book stores, that kind of thing."
"Since when is using the Internet not `real research'? I know you use it all the time at work."
"That's different. It's medicine," House said, getting to his feet and taking their empty plates to the sink. "Come on, what else are we going to do all day?"
"You...have a point," Wilson said. "But if we're going out, could you shave at least? The scruffy look really doesn't suit me."
"All right, you have a deal," House said, turning back to Wilson. "And you could probably use a trim too," he added, eyeing his own face critically.
Later, after House had had an awkward shower of his own, he dressed reluctantly in a pair of Wilson's pants and undershirt - they really weren't clothes he would choose for himself, but at least they fit. Realising he didn't actually own a razor, House called out for Wilson to bring him one. Wilson walked in a minute later, rummaging around in his toiletry bag.
"Here," Wilson said, holding out a razor and a small bottle of expensive looking shaving gel.
House took both items and eyed the gel with distaste, "Where did you get this? Metrosexual's `R Us?"
Wilson rolled his eyes but didn't say anything.
Opening the bathroom cabinet, House pulled out his electric shaver, with a trim guard attached, and pointedly held it out. Wilson took it from him, looking at it almost suspiciously.
"What?" House asked.
"I had a...uh, nasty experience with an electric razor once," Wilson admitted.
House made an amused sound before running some hot water into the sink and splashing some onto his face. He then pumped out a bit of the gel before lathering it in his fingers and applying it, aware all the while of Wilson watching him. Picking up the razor, House eyed the mirror for a moment, but before he could begin Wilson reached over and wrapped a hand around his wrist.
"Wait...let me do it."
"What, afraid I'm going to give you an ingrown hair?" Wilson got a look on his face that spoke volumes. House looked heavenward but handed the razor over and turned to face Wilson.
As Wilson began to move the razor gently over his face, one hand clasping House's neck to tilt his head at the right angle, House found himself closing his eyes and slowly relaxing. He'd never had anyone shave his face before and it was an oddly...intimate experience, even though he wasn't even in his own body.
"You can rinse," Wilson said, when he'd finished, and House blinked open his eyes in mild surprise - having lost track of time. He did as Wilson said and then ran his fingers over his face while looking in the mirror. House caught Wilson looking at him with a peculiar expression out of the corner of his eyes and quickly dropped his hand away.
After a moment Wilson held out a bottle of aftershave lotion and House took it, not bothering this time to make another metrosexual joke. He applied some to his face before noticing Wilson warily eyeing the electric razor again.
Without a word, House picked it up and met Wilson's eyes, a moment of silent communication passing between them. Wilson turned to him and House turned the razor on, using it on Wilson with the ease of long practice. Not sure if he was imagining the tension between them or not, House just tried to ignore it, concentrating instead on what he was doing.
When he finished, Wilson rinsed his face with water before drying it with a towel.
"All right," House said and then cleared his throat when he realised it was a little hoarse sounding, "Let's go."
Wilson
After first trying a couple of libraries and finding nothing whatsoever of use, House and Wilson turned their sights on bookstores. And, more specifically, privately run, small `new age' bookstores. If he had to choke on incense in some stuffy little store once more, Wilson was going to hit something with House's cane. To say that he was, by then, in a horrible mood was an understatement.
"One more," House said, looking at the scrap of paper he'd used to write down addresses on as they walked back towards Wilson's car.
Wilson groaned, "No. No way. We're going home. This was a complete waste of time."
"It was if you're going to give up this easily."
"Easily? We've been travelling around for hours and haven't learnt one useful thing," Wilson argued, getting into the car on the passenger side with a wince.
After seating himself in the driver's seat, House placed his hands on the wheel but didn't start the car. Wilson closed his eyes and rested his head back on the headrest. "Look, don't think I don't know what you're going through, but if you don't want to be stuck like that forever then we need to do this."
Opening his eyes, Wilson looked over at House, feeling a little guilty that he'd doubted House's motivation to fix what had happened. "I'm just..." Wilson sighed, looking down at The Thigh. "I never realised it was this bad."
House didn't reply for a moment, though Wilson could feel House's eyes on him. "It's not that bad. I'm used to it. You're not."
A minute passed in silence.
Needing to break the sudden tension, Wilson met House's eyes, "You know, usually I would be the cajoling one in this situation, and you'd be whining about it being a complete waste of time."
House raised his eyebrows, "Huh. I always knew you wanted to be more like me."
"Likewise," Wilson replied, pointedly.
"With that sentiment then, we're going to this last shop," House said, reaching to turn the key and start the engine. "You can wait in the car and if you're really good I'll buy you a lollipop."
Chapter 5
House
The last shop House had on his list wasn't like all the others they'd gone to. For a start, this one was tucked away in a side street rather than part of a larger shopping centre. It also wasn't filled with black-clothes-wearing teenaged girls or pricey, fake, sparkly junk. The inside was dark and filled with handmade candles, old books and other more peculiar objects House couldn't even begin to guess the use of.
A dark haired woman, dressed in normal, casual clothes - and therefore looking strangely out of place - pushed through a curtain to appear behind the counter. She froze for a moment, when she saw House. House didn't think much of it at first; he and Wilson had been stared at in the previous stores as well, considering they looked very out of place.
However, walking over to her, House realised that the woman looked familiar. "Do I know you?"
"I don't think so," the woman answered with a smile, though House thought it looked forced and eyed her more carefully.
"I do, I know you."
The woman turned away from his gaze, ostensibly to fix a display on the counter, "I can't help you, sorry. Is there something particular you're after?"
House ignored her, busily wracking his brains to place her in his memory. It hit him like a sudden ray of light. "Liar," he said, expression triumphant. "You're one of my ex-patient's mother. Cara? Charlotte?"
"My name is Caroline," the woman offered warily. "And...I still think you're mistaken. My son's doctor was Dr. House."
House blinked in surprise, having momentarily forgotten whose body he was in. "Of course, Dr. House. He's a good buddy of mine. I helped him a little with your son's case."
"Oh, yes, I see now. Dr. Wilson isn't it?" Caroline smiled, but House noticed there was still a tightness around her mouth. "Can I ask what a doctor is doing in a place like this?"
House looked around before eyeing Caroline again. "Long crazy story," he said. "But then...maybe you already know all about it."
Caroline's eyes widened and she looked at him sharply before quickly trying to cover her reaction. House thought she shouldn't have bothered; it was already too late. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You did this, didn't you?" House said, eyes narrowing. "You...cursed us." House laughed in disbelief of his own words.
"No!" Caroline denied vehemently and then winced, shaking her head, "I have never, ever put a curse on anyone. It isn't a curse."
"Then what is it?" House demanded, leaning across the counter towards her.
Caroline visibly swallowed and took a step back, "It-it's a spell. It wasn't meant to harm you, it was just meant to...teach."
"Teach," House repeated, incredulously. "Teach us what? No, wait, I don't even want to know. Just undo it, right now."
Caroline took another half step back towards the curtain, her face paling, "I'm sorry, it can't be undone. The spell will only be released when it has carried out its purpose."
"What purpose?" House burst out. "What possible purpose could there be to switching our bodies?"
"Wait...you switched bodies?" Caroline asked, looking genuinely taken aback. "You're Dr. House?" Caroline covered her mouth with her hand.
"Why the hell are you surprised?"
Caroline dropped her hand and shook her head, "I don't have any control over how the spell manifests itself. That part is left up to the Holy Mother. I'm...I'm truly sorry, I had no idea it would go to such drastic lengths."
"Holy Mother? Jesus," House let out a ragged breath and pinched at the bridge of his nose. "This just gets better and better."
"I promise you, the spell will reverse itself once you...find out what you need to know about Dr. Wilson."
"What? The spell wants to teach me something about...Wilson?" House said, incredulous. "And, let me guess, you can't tell me what that is."
"I'm sorry, I can't," Caroline replied, "I put the spell on the two of you because I sensed an unresolved aura between you. Only you and he have the ability to solve it."
House was silent for a minute. "Why?" He finally asked. "Why do this in the first place?"
Caroline met his eyes with a determined expression, "You may not be able to see it as such now, but it was a gift. For saving my son."
"A gift," House repeated, laughing sourly. "I'll be sure to tell that to Wilson, who is at the moment stuck in my old, crippled and pain-wracked body."
House turned and marched his way angrily out of the shop.
Wilson
Wilson knew that something significant had happened as soon as House got back in the car, but he only received terse replies to his questions. Too exhausted to try harder, Wilson gave up and they drove in silence back to House's apartment. As soon as they were inside, House disappeared into the bathroom and firmly closed the door.
After taking another Vicodin, Wilson went into House's bedroom and collapsed on the bed, lying on his stomach. He started to doze off but was jostled awake when the bed dipped suddenly. Wilson opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder to see that House had sat beside him, staring off at the nothing.
"You all right?" House asked gruffly, glancing down at him.
"Yeah," Wilson said, though he wasn't really and thought House probably wasn't all right either. "Thinking of hiring that masseuse I got you though."
House smiled thinly before tilting his head in a thoughtful way. He put a hand on Wilson's arm and nudged him, "Shove over."
Wilson frowned a little in confusion but did so, surprised when House climbed further onto the bed to kneel next to him. Before Wilson could ask what he was doing, House ran a hand up his back and then moved both hands up to start massaging his shoulders. Sighing quietly in pleasure, Wilson dropped his head back down and closed his eyes.
"Think of it this way," House murmured, "I know every place that hurts."
While the experience was yet another level of weirdness, Wilson had shivers running up and down his spine as House slowly worked at the tight muscles, hitting all the right spots. "You should get this done more often you know," Wilson mumbled after a few minutes. House didn't reply, but moved his hands down to Wilson's right leg, starting to gently massage the tight muscles at the back of his thigh.
Wilson bit the inside of his cheek when he realised he was starting to get aroused. Like this couldn't get any more bizarre, Wilson thought sardonically.
House's hands crossed to his other thigh before moving down to his calves and then up to his back again.
"Turn over," House said, some time later. Wilson didn't answer, mortified at the thought of House seeing that he had an erection. "Wilson?" When Wilson still didn't answer, House shifted next to him and began to run a hand slowly up and down his back, apparently deciding that Wilson was asleep.
Wilson managed to relax slightly then, though the continued...stroking made him wonder what was going through House's mind. After a few minutes, House took his away and settled down next to him. Wilson opened his eyes, tempted to look over his shoulder at House but resisted the urge. Closing his eyes again, he let himself drift off and soon fell asleep.
House
The shadows in the room slowly lengthened and darkened as the sun began to go down outside. House watched them, listening to Wilson breathing next to him and wondering how the universe managed to be even crazier than he had thought it to be. And he'd considered it to be pretty damn crazy.
Caroline's words were going around his head like a particularly bad song stuck on repeat. "It was just meant to teach...will only be released when it has carried out its purpose...find out what you need to know about Dr. Wilson."
It had been just as well that House had left Caroline's shop when he had, or he probably would have grievously injured her. Why the woman would do all this, and have the audacity to call it a gift, was beyond him.
Find out what about Wilson? That was the question. What was so important that he didn't already know? And just what was the purpose behind switching their bodies? House grimaced and rubbed both hands over his face. Freezing for a moment, House pulled one hand away and used the other to stroke his jaw.
Wilson's jaw, really.
The memory of the first time he'd seen Wilson's body naked, in the bathroom, came back to House then. The experience had...confused him, to say the least. Staring in the mirror, it had been like Wilson was in front of him rather than a reflection, all pale and smooth skin, slightly on the thin side but well muscled, nicely proportioned. The sight had affected House in a profound way, a way that he hadn't been able to even begin to understand. All he knew was that it shouldn't have had any effect on him.
It shouldn't have.
Then again, maybe it was just the knowledge that Wilson actually appeared to trim his pubic hair that had put him off centre, House considered. Really, could the man be any gayer?
That thought seemed to hit on something in House's mind and he dropped his hand down to his lap, recalling the last bit of odd information he'd gained about Wilson. That sometimes Wilson `preferred' to sleep on his couch rather than in his own bed. House could guess why; Wilson got lonely. He didn't like facing an empty bed, so he slept on the couch instead. It was twisted logic, but it was also very...Wilson.
There was something else though, something else about it that niggled at the back of House's mind. Wilson had slept on his couch after his split up with Julie. Had chosen to sleep there rather than go to a motel, and it hadn't been the first time....
House frowned, trying desperately to jam the resisting puzzle pieces together. Wilson somehow connected sleeping on a couch to him...to comfort? To not being alone?
If Wilson hadn't wanted to be alone, though, why hadn't he just moved back in?
House groaned quietly in frustration.
Interlude
"So, where do you guys think House and Wilson are?"
Chase looked up at Cameron from his crossword puzzle with a small frown, chewing on the end of his pen. "Wilson is away as well?"
Cameron nodded, "Apparently. I don't know what he said, but the latest news from the nurses is that House rang in for them both on Wednesday morning."
"Right, because nurse gossip is the most reliable of sources," Foreman snorted, rolling his eyes.
"I didn't say I believed it," Cameron said, slowly turning her cup of coffee around in her hands. "And I still don't understand why you were put in charge again."
Foreman looked up at the ceiling, "Do we have to have this talk again? It's not like it matters, we're not even doing anything. The most exciting thing that has happened lately is when someone tripped going past this room. I'm so bored I almost rushed out there with a wad of bandages just in case I was needed."
"Maybe they finally got around to going on a honeymoon," Chase mumbled to himself, looking down at his crossword again. Cameron and Foreman both turned to stare at him and after a moment Chase glanced up, face flushing a little. "Did I say that out loud?"
"Honeymoon?" Cameron repeated.
"Oh come on, you can't tell me I'm the only one who's noticed that they behave like they're married most of the time," Chase said.
Foreman and Cameron shared a look for a moment.
"Lack of personal space," Foreman said.
"House does whatever Wilson asks him to," Cameron put in, starting to smile. "They're also...protective of each other. Or at least, Wilson is of House," she said, a little absently.
The two men looked at Cameron for a moment but didn't question her further on that. It wasn't exactly news after all; not when the news that Wilson had sacrificed his job to save House's had gone around the entire hospital.
"They practically live in each other's pockets. Wilson is the only one who can get House to genuinely laugh or smile. They actually did live together after Wilson's divorce. Wilson cooks for House. House steals his food. They even fight like a married couple," Chase rattled off, looking pleased with himself.
Cameron and Foreman were looking at him incredulously. "You've thought about this a lot, haven't you?" Foreman asked.
Chase shrugged, "I've been here longer than both of you. Trust me, as soon as you start thinking about it you can't stop noticing."
"They're straight," Cameron said, but she didn't sound all that sure.
"Just because they've been with women before doesn't make them straight," Chase replied.
Foreman quirked an eyebrow, "Speaking from experience, Chase?"
Chase rolled his eyes but there was a faint blush to his cheeks, "I'm just saying."
Chapter 6a
Wilson
Wilson woke up to find himself alone on House's bed.
Looking at the clock, he saw that it was just after nine at night, which explained why he didn't feel all that refreshed. At least the pain in The Thigh was better.
Getting up, Wilson made his way to the bathroom to splash some water on his face before walking out to the living room. He was surprised to find House sitting at his piano, the expression on his face closed and distant.
"House?"
"Your fingers don't work right," House said, without turning around. "I can't play."
Wilson walked closer to the piano. "We'll fix this," he said, trying to sound more confidant than he actually felt.
House turned to him, his expression one Wilson was only used to seeing whenever House finally put all the pieces together to diagnose a patient. In this context he didn't know what to make of it.
"Yes, we will," House said, his tone weighted. Getting to his feet, House walked right up to Wilson, looking at him as if he had the answers to all the mysteries of the universe written somewhere on his face.
"What?" Wilson asked, starting to feel uncomfortable.
"Why didn't you move back in with me?"
Wilson blinked and raised his eyebrows, taken off-guard by the unexpected question. "What do you mean why didn't I? I managed to get my own place, there was no need-."
"There was no need for you to stay with me in the first place, technically. But you did."
"What is all this about?"
"What are you hiding from me?"
"What?" Wilson started to laugh, awkwardly, but quickly stopped himself. The seriousness of House's expression gave him pause.
House cocked his head to the side, his eyes not leaving Wilson's. House's familiar critical stare wasn't as potent without the steely blue of his eyes to go along with it, Wilson noticed. Somehow, the force of House's personality still came through though.
"You were afraid," House said, not even giving a hint that it might be a question rather than a statement. "Of giving the game away." Taking a step closer, House frowned for a moment before his expression relaxed into impassiveness. "Are you in love with me?"
Wilson's lips parted slightly in shock. If he didn't know better, he would have said that the world actually tilted alarmingly on its axis right then, because it certainly felt like it. For a long time he just stood there frozen, as if by not moving he would be safe. The next urge, however, was to run.
But then Wilson remembered - he couldn't run. Not in House's body.
"God damn it, House," Wilson said stiffly and looked down, unable to continue the eye contact, his throat tight with emotion. "What do you want from me?"
"Just the truth, Jimmy."
The quietness of House's voice took Wilson by surprise and he looked back up. They stared at each for a long while, a silent contest of wills.
Wilson felt something break, or maybe it actually snapped, inside him. He was expecting pain to come next, but there was none. If anything, there was only relief. Wilson laughed again then, almost fatalistically.
"Why would I be in love with you?" Wilson asked, harshly. "The great genius Gregory House, the man who crosses every line and never apologises. The self-proclaimed cripple, the man who'd offer sarcasm rather than sympathy, the biggest bastard of Princeton Plainsboro."
Looking down at the floor between them, Wilson smiled and then whispered, almost speaking to himself more than House, "Why would I be in love with you?"
Raising his eyes again, Wilson reached out and grabbed House, yanking him forward into a rough kiss, his eyes clamped shut in an attempt to ignore that he was, technically, kissing himself.
House
"Shit," House said.
A wooden floor was an exceptionally bad place to sleep on. House hadn't done so, from memory, since he was twenty-three, at Luke Panelli's New Year's party. He'd gotten incredibly drunk and passed out in a corner of Luke's living room, left undisturbed until the morning when he woke up with the hangover from hell. Not to mention a very sore and stiff body. House decided not to work out how many years ago that actually was and concentrated instead on trying to remember why, exactly, he was on the floor this time.
Cracking his eyes open, House recognised the ceiling of his living room. That explained one thing - it was his floor he was lying on at least. By the light coming in through the window, it was morning too. Turning his head to the side, House was startled to see Wilson lying next to him, looking dead to the world.
A second passed and then it hit him. Everything, every image flashing through his mind like an out-of-control movie reel. Everything since waking up in Wilson's apartment - in Wilson's body - to Caroline and her spell, to Wilson admitting that....
"Oh God," House muttered and pressed a hand to his face. After a moment, he took it away and stared at it. His hand...his actual hand. Relief flooded through him like the sweetest of morphine shots. The spell had reversed.
It was strange that House almost welcomed the familiar ache in his thigh. Almost, but not quite.
Sitting up, House reached over and shook Wilson's shoulder roughly. "Wilson?"
Wilson made an unintelligible noise and, after another shake from House, opened his eyes. "What...?" Wilson blinked at him and then slowly sat up, looking around with a dazed expression.
Grabbing his cane from where it lay beside him, House struggled up to his feet with a groan, "Don't worry, you'll remember everything in a minute." Moving over to the couch, House slumped onto it, feeling exhausted. "And when you do, try to scream quietly, I have a pounding headache."
Wilson didn't scream, but after a minute or so his eyes grew distant and his face paled a little. "That...wasn't a nightmare then," Wilson said.
"Apparently not," House replied and then sighed. "Look...Wilson-."
"Don't," Wilson quickly interrupted and got stiffly to his feet, "Just don't." For a short while, Wilson stood there looking at his hands and down at his body. "Let's just be thankful it's over."
House frowned at him, thinking Wilson didn't really look all that thankful. "I don't know. Now I have to live in a world where magic is actually real. It's a depressing thought. Next there'll be fairies and puppy dogs with wings flittering about."
"Right, yeah," Wilson said, rubbing at the back of his neck and sounding distracted.
There was a long, drawn out, awkward silence.
It was obvious that Wilson didn't want him to say anything about his confession, which meant House decided not to say anything at all. He wanted to though, unusually. He wanted to say something.
"I think...I should probably go home," Wilson finally said.
Wilson didn't move for another minute. Then he started walking about and collecting his things. House remained where he was on the couch, following Wilson with his eyes while he inwardly debated with himself.
"I'll see you at work," Wilson muttered before making to leave. House had just opened his mouth to finally say something when Wilson walked out and closed the door.
"Shit," House muttered.
Five days later, House sat in his office, both hands and chin resting on the head of his cane as he stared broodingly out the window. He and Wilson hadn't spoken since Friday and the silence from the opposing camp was getting on House's nerves. Not only that, but Foreman, Chase and Cameron kept sharing odd looks between them whenever they were in the same room with him, like giggly school kids - without the giggling.
House was fed up with it all.
Getting to his feet, House left his office, ignoring everything else but his destination. When he got to Wilson's office door, House opened it and, after walking inside, locked it at his back. Wilson looked up, somehow seeming both surprised and yet not surprised at his appearance.
"We need to talk," House said, without preamble.
Wilson eyed him a moment longer before speaking. "Right now?"
"You have somewhere to be?"
"I'm trying to work," Wilson replied testily.
"No, you're not. You're sitting there trying to think yourself into an early grave." House walked over to drop himself into the chair across from Wilson's desk. He tapped his fingers on his cane a couple of times, staring across at the `Vertigo' poster Wilson had on his wall. He could identify with that sensation. Looking back at Wilson, House took a deep breath and let it out before speaking, "Nothing has to change you know."
Wilson looked taken aback for a moment before his expression went abruptly blank. "It doesn't?"
"You're still my bestest buddy," House said, with deadly seriousness.
Wilson cracked a tiny smile, though he was obviously trying not to smile, "I'm so relieved."
"Friday, you're coming over to my place," House decided out loud. "We'll get dinner from Mao's."
"There's...something I don't understand," Wilson said, ignoring the proposed dinner plans. "Why do you think we changed back when we did?"
House dropped his chin, gripping his cane a little tighter. Time for the truth. "It was a spell. You remember that last new age shop we went to? The woman who owns it is the mother of one of my ex-patients. She cast a spell on us."
Wilson blinked slowly and stared at House, as if waiting for the punch line. One that didn't come. "You're...actually serious. Why the hell didn't you tell me this in the first place?"
"It wouldn't have made a difference."
"Why wouldn't...?" Wilson shook his head a little and looked down at his desk, "Why did we change back then?" When House didn't reply, Wilson looked back up, frowning. "It was what I...said, wasn't it? That's why you wanted to know if I was hiding something."
House smiled blandly, "Apparently the witch was concerned about an `unresolved aura' between us," he said, scornfully. "Which I guess means we're good now," he added and got to his feet.
"We're...good."
"Friday," House said, refusing to hear the doubt or the slightest hint of a question in Wilson's voice. "Seven o'clock, don't be late," he commanded and unlocked the door before opening it.
"House, wait," Wilson said, before House walked out. "Why is Cuddy suddenly treating me like I'm going to fall apart at any moment?"
House glanced back, pulling a confused face. "No idea. You know our crazy Cuddy," House said and left before Wilson could ask him anything else.
They were in enough trouble as it was, House figured, without Wilson knowing what he'd told Cuddy to get them out of work; that Wilson had had a nervous breakdown.
Chapter 6b
Wilson
The whole thing was a joke, Wilson had decided.
A very cruel joke, played by unknown powers of the universe. In less than a week he'd had his whole sense of reality turned upside down and had spilled a secret he had managed to keep for years and years - and kept from a man who was a genius at unearthing secrets.
And nothing had to change?
Everything had changed.
Wilson had been tempted to ignore House's `invitation' for dinner, but he found himself showing up at House's door on Friday evening anyway.
Raising a hand, Wilson knocked resignedly, digging out his keys with his other hand at the same time. Predictably, House called out for him to use his key and Wilson smiled wryly. Well, some things hadn't changed at least. Unlocking and opening the door, Wilson walked in to see House sitting on the couch, nursing a beer and watching TV.
"I already ordered. Food should be here in about five minutes. Or it better be, otherwise I'm not paying," House said, by way of greeting.
Wilson closed the door, pocketed his keys, and walked over to the couch. House was sitting right smack in the middle, like he usually did. After his eyes went from one spot to another, Wilson finally sat down on House's right, trying to keep as much space between them as possible.
"Did you order the-?" Wilson started to ask after a minute.
"Kung Pao Chicken? Yeah," House said, without looking at him. Wilson nodded, plucking at a loose thread in his jeans until he realised what he was doing and forced himself to stop. He stared uncomprehendingly at the TV for a moment, before frowning and trying to actually work out what House was watching.
"Beer's in the fridge if you want one."
Wilson jumped a little and tried to cover his reaction by getting quickly to his feet, "Right, thanks."
Taking his time, Wilson went into the kitchen and got a beer. Just as he returned to the couch, there was a knock on the door and House got up to answer it. Wilson sat down while House paid for the take-out, opening his beer and drinking half of it in one go while House wasn't looking.
Bringing the take-out over to the coffee table, House rummaged around in the plastic bag before handing Wilson a carton along with some chopsticks, again without looking at him. Wilson took them wordlessly and they both ate in silence for a while.
Lacking an appetite, Wilson rigidly put his carton on the table before he'd finished and half turned towards House. "This is what you call `nothing changing' is it?"
House eyed him without moving his head, holding his carton up close to his mouth. "What?"
"I knew this would happen," Wilson said, letting out a laugh of frustration. "Why do you think I never told you?"
"Wilson..."
Wilson shook his head and then got abruptly to his feet, pacing restless over to the bookshelf before looking back at House. "Nothing fazes you except when it gets personal right?"
"Wilson."
"The only reason you're even willing to try to go on as if nothing has happened is because you need me, not because you're trying to be understanding!"
It seemed sudden, though it probably wasn't, when House got up from the couch and limped up to Wilson - without using his cane. It was sudden enough that Wilson only stood there and watched him.
"Shut up, you idiot," House said and gripped Wilson's shoulder with one hand. "Just shut up."
One of Wilson's hands moved to House's elbow, half wanting to shove him away and half wanting to make sure House didn't fall over. "What the hell are you doing?"
House didn't reply, staring at him fiercely. Wilson met the stare, frowning and watching in bewilderment as House's expression slowly morphed into something like confusion. House's eyes flickered down between their bodies before rising slowly to Wilson's face again. Wilson swallowed and gripped House's arm a little tighter, though he didn't move.
"I may have made a mistake," House said, in a low, rough voice.
Wilson felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. "You what?"
Raising his other hand, House touched his fingertips to Wilson's cheek, brushing them up to his cheekbone before sliding down to the corner of his jaw. Wilson stared at him blankly and stood there frozen even when House leaned in and kissed him. It was only a tight press of lips against lips before House pulled back again, looking at him searchingly.
After a moment, Wilson took in a deep, shuddering breath and swallowed before speaking. "Mistake?"
House slid his hand from Wilson's shoulder to the back of his neck and squeezed, "Things have changed."
For a few uneven breaths they just stared at each other.
While Wilson wasn't completely sure what House was admitting, he decided to take a gamble anyway. Sliding a hand around the back of House's head, Wilson pulled him back in and - when he got no resistance - kissed him. The kiss was much softer than the first and their lips parted, sliding together slowly. The first touch of House's tongue against his had Wilson stifling a moan and moving his hand from House's arm down to his hip, pulling him in closer.
House braced one hand against the bookshelf behind Wilson, the other tangling into Wilson's hair as the kiss deepened. House's tongue wound together with Wilson's, past his lips, and Wilson sucked on it, wrenching a guttural noise from House. The kiss became fiercer, building with bruising intensity, before House suddenly pulled away with a gasp of air.
Opening his eyes - Wilson couldn't even remember when he'd closed them - he saw House looking off to the side, his face flushed.
"I need...to sit down," House panted out, still not looking at him.
Wilson grabbed one of House's arms and helped him back over to the couch, where they both landed with a soft thump. House rubbed at his thigh before finding his Vicodin and swallowing a pill. Closing his eyes, House laughed quietly, resting his head back on the backrest of the couch. "Jimmy, Jimmy...."
Bewildered, Wilson only blinked at House a few times.
House opened his eyes and rolled his head to look at Wilson, a small ironic smile on his lips. "Marry me?"
Wilson's eyebrows shot up and he stared a moment before laughter burst out of his throat. House joined him a second later, laughing freely.
Then House had his hand on Wilson's chest, pushing him gently down onto the couch, and the laughter cut off abruptly when their lips met again.
Epilogue
Caroline
Stepping out of her shop, Caroline first turned to lock the door and therefore didn't notice the package sitting on the doorstep before she nearly tripped over it. Frowning, she bent and picked it up, turning it over in her hands. There was no note or any indication of who it was from. Looking around suspiciously, Caroline said a small protection spell under her breath before tugging the string open.
As she was taking the lid off, something dark and hairy suddenly jumped out and Caroline jerked back against the door in shock. Recovering, she realised that the dark and hairy thing was a large, fake spider attached to a spring. There was also a note. Turning it over, Caroline read.
I'll come to you if I need a case of warts for a particularly annoying hypochondriac patient.
G.H.
Realising what the note really meant, Caroline laughed quietly before tucking the note back into the box and walking to her car. Her son, she thought, would probably like the fake spider.
Please post a comment on this story.
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.
|
|
|