#housethemd writes

[housethemd]

So in the episode where House is on methadone

Everyone is trying to figure out what’s going on with House, why he’s being nice, etc etc and eventually Wilson is just like “he’s on heroin.”

The surety with which Wilson says this really struck me. Like Wilson doesn’t just suggest House must on drugs that aren’t Vicodin, doesn’t even merely suggest House could be on heroin. No he says with absolute certainty that House is on heroin.

The only way Wilson could be so sure, would be if he’s seen House on heroin before.

Now while I’m quite convinced that House was an occasional recreational drug user prior to the infarction, heroin usually isn’t a drug you might take just for fun at a party every now and again. This leads me to believe that sometime in the early days post infarction is the most likely time House used heroin.

I’m imagining Wilson showing up after work to check on House. Stacy left weeks ago and House is still dealing with that on top of healing and being newly disabled so he’s been in a pretty god awful mood that only Wilson seems to be able to tolerate.

But when Wilson gets there House is in a better mood. Not just a better mood, he’s happy. Wilson knows immediately something is going on.

“What did you do? What did you take?” He’d ask. He knows people’s moods don’t change overnight like that, so either House took something or he’s planning to kill himself. Both are equally possible given his recent trauma and mental state, and Wilson needs to figure out which.

“What? Nothing. Well Vicodin but you know I’ve got a prescription for that.” House would reply, waggling his finger in Wilson’s direction like this is all some kind of joke.

Wilson frantically searches through everything within arms reach of House. Thankfully even with his better mood House can’t move very quickly, and Wilson manages to unearth a bag, and dashes out of House’s reach to open it. It’s filled with powder and syringes and Wilson has done enough ER shifts to know what it is.

“No, House. No. How did you even get this?” He’d ask, shocked.

“It’s easy when you know the right places to go.” House would say, not looking at Wilson anymore.

“The right places to… House you can barely get from the couch to the bathroom how the hell did you get this?”

“I guess I was sufficiently motivated.”

And Wilson’s heart breaks. He doesn’t have it in him to be mad at his friend. His life is upside down and House has never been good with change. Wilson does throw away the needles and flush the drugs and it pisses House off (“Do you know how much I paid for that?”) but once House calms down he makes House swear never again, that he won’t go down that road. Wilson says he’ll do anything, even write him more Vicodin prescriptions if he just promises not to use heroin again.

And House promises.

So when House is suddenly in an unexplainably good mood years later, Wilson thinks he knows exactly what’s going on. He’s angry, House promised. Wilson held up his end of the deal for the most part, so he comes up with a plan to catch House and make him admit to it.

But we all know how that plays out.

[greghatecrimes]

A while ago, I made a post about what I think the PPTH gang would order at Starbucks. This post by @housethemd had me thinking Coffee Thoughts again about House & co., so here are some thoughts about what I think it would be like to have them as customers in my cafe.

At work, there's regulars (people that come in often enough that I recognize their face), and there's THE regulars (customers that come in so regularly that I know their name, order, a couple details about their life/them as a person, and usually have a pleasant conversation with while they're ordering). For this, I'm operating under the assumption that all of the House characters would fall into the latter group (because they're all doctors at a busy hospital. Any hospital job usually goes for so. much. caffeine).

Cameron probably comes in the most frequently out of anyone, but the baristas would all know her solely as Allie. She'd be one of the regulars that makes having the early-morning opening shift worth it, because she's genuinely always happy to talk with you (and almost always carries cash so she can give you a tip directly). She'd ask how you're doing and remember little details from your conversations (like music you said you liked, or your major/degree if you ever mentioned college). She has a favorite drink for every season (Pumpkin Spice Lattes for fall, Peppermint Mochas for winter, etc.) and is so consistent with her orders that at every open, whoever's working marks a cup for her drink and sets it aside for when she comes in. At least once during "buy one get one half off" sales, she'd buy two of whatever's on sale just to give the second one (or both) to whoever's working at the time.

Chase would probably come in at least a couple of times per week. For some reason, he'd make his appointed Starbucks/café name "Bob" instead of Robert/Rob/Robbie, and every single barista he's met would agree that "there's no way his name is actually Bob. He's way too attractive for that." My coworkers (somewhat surprisingly, not a group of college-aged girls. We are a group of incredibly gay and/or trans 20-somethings LMAO) would absolutely talk about how hot he is when he's not around and swoon over the accent (if there's a list of Hottest Regulars, he's absolutely #1). He'd mention having a girlfriend and order coffee for her occasionally, but everyone would refuse to believe she existed until they saw her for themselves. One day he'd come in with Cameron, and it would make the barista group text explode. (Bob and Allie know each other? And not only that, but Bob and Allie are actually... Bob-And-Allie?! Allie is the mysterious girlfriend?!) There would be full on MOURNING. At least one person would joke about calling in sick from the grief of Aussie Golden Retriever Boyfriend's girlfriend being real. Inexplicably, he'd enjoy Taylor Swift's music and the baristas would love him even more for that.

More characters to come in another post :) I'm thinking probably House, Wilson, and Cuddy next? (Also: thank you to @samathekittycat for your tags on the reblog of the House frappuccino post; it was a small thing but the eyes emoji gave me the motivation to get a bunch of stuff done so I could come back and write this, lol)

[housethemd]

Do You Ever Think About Life at PPTH After House and Wilson Ride Off into the Sunset?

Foreman continues on as Dean of Medicine, makes Chase the Head of Diagnostics. The hospital gets a new Head of Oncology.

Chase gets fellows of his own, who ask him what it was like working for Dr. Greg House. He argues with Foreman over medical treatments and diagnoses. Every time the need an oncology consult things just don’t feel right.

Sometimes Chase goes into Foreman’s office when cases are particularly hard and says he doesn’t think he can solve it without House. He almost always does.

Time goes by. Ten years, twenty. There are few left at PPTH who remember House and Wilson. The fellows no longer ask what working for House was like because few have heard of him. “Everybody lies” becomes known as Dr. Chase’s catchphrase. He and Foreman don’t correct people anymore.

But a couple times a year, late at night, Chase and Foreman will sit on the balcony that connects Chase’s office to the Head of Oncology’s office. They drink scotch and smoke cigars and reminisce about “the good old days.” They can’t believe they call them that.

Foreman has long believed House faked his death, he had to have left that ID card for him for a reason, right? Chase was never sure what he believed, but even if it was true it was two decades ago. Wilson only had five months, and House wouldn’t have lasted long without him. They are both long gone now.

But after a few drinks, both Chase and Foreman find that if they sit quietly on that balcony and close their eyes, they can almost hear House and Wilson in their respective offices. For a brief moment it’s almost thirty years earlier, and House and Wilson will soon emerge from and discuss dinner or patients or whatever else those two best friends spoke about.

Like ghosts, a part of House and Wilson will never leave PPTH.

At least for as long as Eric Foreman and Robert Chase remain.

[housethemd]

So I have a headcanon that House has some issues with food.

Mainly he is very particular about what he eats, and stress/pain exasperate this. It’s why when he’s home alone he mostly eats peanut butter sandwiches and canned soup. It’s predictable, safe, and easy because it doesn’t take him long to make so he doesn’t have to stand for very long.

Now imagine he and and Wilson get together and Wilson moves in. Of course Wilson would immediately take over cooking duties.

He makes meals for them taking into account the foods he knows House likes, the way he likes them cooked, and makes healthy meals based on those as foundations.

He also realizes House responds better to food when presented with small portion sizes. He realizes it’s why House steals food off his plate at work instead of buying his own portion - it’s too much, too overwhelming.

So he starts serving House’s meals on smaller plates. There is an immediate difference in the amount House eats. As opposed to picking at his plate and eating very little like usual, he finishes all his food and even sometimes asks if there is any more. Wilson gladly brings him seconds of whatever foods he requests.

He will also sometimes make new things or cook foods he knows House has had issues with just in a different way, but always as a side. He’ll explain to House what the food is, how it was cooked, what seasonings he used if any, the texture of it, and what foods it’s similar to. Instead of putting it on House’s plate for him to try, he serves himself a generous portion and tells House he can try it off his plate if he likes. Sometimes House says no, and Wilson never pushes House to try it. After a while House starts to stick his fork in the new foods. Wilson even encourages him to touch the food if he wants a better idea of it’s texture. With a safe, pressure free environment to try new foods House discovers a few new things he likes.

On nights when House has had a really stressful day, or a bad pain day, and he says he doesn’t want to eat Wilson will make one of House’s safe meals and serve himself a big plate of it and just sit next to House on the couch, knowing House is likely to steal bits of it off his plate. House doesn’t eat a lot of it, but it’s better than him going to bed with no supper.

Basically just Wilson taking very good care of his “picky eater” boyfriend, because he understands his needs and strives to help him be healthy without pushing his boundaries!!

[housethemd]

Over the course of the show we see House take baths on several occasions (and of course I have a headcanon about it)

I think that as of canon era, House likes to take baths. But I don’t think this was always true.

We must remember that House was forced into ice baths as a child by John House as a punishment. I feel like this would have given him a lot of trauma around baths, so even when they were warm and even if he ran them he could never relax.

But then the infarction happened, and standing to take a shower became a struggle. He hated having a shower chair so the obvious solution became baths. So he would grit his teeth and get in the tub because he could only go so long without a proper washing up. After a few times, he starts to notice that soaking in the hot water lessens his pain and slowly he is able to reframe baths in his mind. No longer a punishment but a means of pain relief. Eventually he starts to enjoy them, and starts taking them just because.

So yeah, headcanon that House had to work to reframe baths in his head.

Also now I’m imagining an infarction-era fic where Wilson is trying to get House to take a bath (“you stink, House.”) and while Wilson doesn’t know why the idea of a bath stresses House out so much, he still does everything he can to make it a good experience for him (“look I put some bubbles in it.”) and when he finally gets House into the tub and goes to leave to give House some privacy, House grabs him by the wrist (“please don’t leave.”)

So Wilson stays. He sits on the lid of the toilet and they talk while House gets cleaned up. That’s how House takes his first few baths since he was a child, with Wilson right there, helping him remember that things are safe and the tub isn’t a punishment (even if Wilson doesn’t know that’s what he’s doing.)

[housethemd]

Thinking about what would have happened after the crane collapse if it was Wilson who went after House and confessed his feelings instead of Cuddy.

What if the rest of the general storyline stayed the same? And Wilson had a health scare (could be the same as Cuddy’s, or maybe in a happier world they discover his thymoma earlier so it’s easily treatable) which causes House to use Vicodin to be there to support Wilson.

Because Wilson would have done so much better by House in that situation. Instead of breaking up with him over it Wilson would have done his best to get House the support he needed to stop his slip from becoming a full relapse.

He would have said that a slip after two years sober isn’t the end of the world, that recovery isn’t linear and that with the right treatments and supports and work he can go back to being sober.

He would not think House’s slip was a reflection of how much he did or did not care about him or their relationship.

He would have made peace with the fact that slips or even full relapses could happen, and gone into the relationship knowing that might be something he’d need to support House through.

He also would have recognized that his health scare was the first majorly upsetting event House was going through since getting sober. Would he wish House used his support system instead of slipping? Yes. But he wouldn’t be angry House slipped.

Because Wilson would have been honest with himself about what he was getting into, dating an addict.

[housethemd]

AU Where House is openly Bi and Wilson is openly Gay but the two of them still can’t pull their heads out of their asses long enough to realize they are in love.

Is this anything? Or is this boring?

[housethemd]

House loves Antics™️

But I’m a little in love with the idea that House has two kinds of Antics™️

The first kinda is his usual “I’m too smart for my own good and need constant mental stimulation so I don’t explode” Antics™️

But there is a second kind. These ones are “any attention is good attention please please pay attention to me” Antics™️

Only Wilson recognizes the difference between the two, and when he realizes House has started with his “I need attention” Antics™️ he lures House into his office and gives him undivided attention for an hour or so which always starts with House saying that no amount of quality time will deter him from his Antics™️, but the end House and Wilson are both sitting on the couch and Wilson has his arms around House and he is much calmer.

(If House lets go of his Antics™️ for the rest of the day, he’ll insist the cuddle session with Wilson had nothing to do with it.)

[housethemd]

Behind Closed Doors

When Chase happened to mention he had to be out of his apartment for 24 hours due to windows being replaced, Wilson invites him to stay with himself and House. Chase gets to see a side of his boss few do.

Established married House/Wilson.

(This is the fic that got the most votes when I did a poll on which of my WIP people were most interested in.)

~~~~~~~~~~

Chase stood awkwardly outside the door of 221B, trying to convince himself to knock. It wasn’t too late to turn around, get a hotel room. Wilson had offered, nay, insisted that he stay with him and House for the night however.

Wilson was a nice guy. Far to nice to be married to House in Chase’s opinion, but the two seemed to make each other happy so he supposed he couldn’t judge. He doesn’t know what he’s so nervous of, he’s been at 221B before. He knows there’s no sex dungeon or large aggressive dog waiting on the other side. Maybe it’s that it’s his boss, that it’s House.

He closes his eyes, bites the bullet, and knocks. It takes long enough for someone to answer that Chase begins to wonder if this wasn’t some elaborate prank. While House is usually the one staging such things, it wouldn’t be unusual for Wilson to get involved. He’s about to turn around and leave when he hears the door unlock and it opens to reveal House himself standing on the other side.

“Um. Hi.” Chase says. He’d been hoping Wilson would answer the door.

“Wombat.” House replies.

House is dressed in one of his band t-shirts and a pair of loose fitting basketball shorts. His feet are bare and he’s leaning on the wall, his cane nowhere to be seen. They stand eye to eye for a few moments, neither speaking or moving, when a voice calls out from inside the apartment.

“Don’t just stand there, invite him in!” It’s Wilson’s voice, and it holds a tone of fond exasperation.

House doesn’t say anything, but turns around and limps into the apartment. Chase glances around, but ultimately follows him in. Given House’s lack shoes he opts to remove his own. He’s more comfortable that way anyway. He’s never understood why Americans wear their shoes at home.

House is sitting on the couch, and there is an American football game playing on the TV. The windows are open, letting in the slightly cool September breeze. He can smell something delicious coming from the kitchen where Wilson stands at the stove.

“You made it!” Wilson says when he sees Chase.

“Yeah, found the place alright.” Chase jokes.

He stands awkwardly for a moment, not sure where he’s supposed to be going or what he’s supposed to be doing. Should he be offering to help in the kitchen? He’s a little nervous to just sit down next to House. At work they’re comfortable around each other, hell the could go for a drink and it probably wouldn’t be awkward, but something about being in House’s domain makes him nervous.

“Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring you a beer in a second.” Wilson tells him.

He does as he told, and sit on the opposite end of the couch to House, who doesn’t acknowledge him.

“You want another beer, Greg?” Wilson sticks his head out of the kitchen.

“Yeah.” House replies.

It’s strange hearing House called “Greg.” He shouldn’t be shocked, they are a married couple for God’s sake. Still, House is one of those people who seems like he only has one name - House.

Wilson comes out with two beers in hand. He’s dressed in grey sweatpants and what looks like one of House’s t-shirts. It strikes him as odd but he reminds himself again that they are married. Wilson hands the beers over the back of the couch. Chase makes a point to say thank you but House just sort of grunts, eyes never straying from the TV.

After a while Wilson appears again with two plates full of what looks like homemade Pad Thai. After placing them in front of the two of them he leaves and returns with his own plate, sitting down between them.

The food is delicious. They all dig in with reckless abandon and take turns making comments on the game. House makes scathing deductions about the players personal lives and Chase has no idea if he is serious or is just saying ridiculous and offensive things to make Wilson laugh.

“Stop stealing my chicken.” Wilson says without taking his eyes off the game.

House had been using his chopsticks to steal bits of chicken off the edge of Wilson’s plate.

“You barely gave me any.” House whined.

“I gave you plenty.” Wilson replied as if reasoning with a small child.

“Fine. But it tastes better when it’s yours.” House’s voice held a tone of flirtation which Chase took as his cue to go grab a beer from the fridge.

He felt lucky that Wilson didn’t seem to escalate the situation in an amorous direction, though when he was returning from the kitchen he did catch Wilson feeding House a piece of chicken from his own plate.

House and Wilson finished their food before he did, and they both took their plates out to the kitchen. Chase paid them no mind, until he heard House’s voice speaking in a low register.

“Dinner was extremely acceptable.” He said as he leaned on the kitchen island.

“Oh my, that’s almost a compliment.” Wilson replied, placing both hands on either side of House’s hips on the island, leaning into his space.

It was like watching a car crash, Chase thought as Wilson pressed a deep kiss to House’s mouth. He didn’t want to be watching his boss and his husband make out, yet he couldn’t quite look away. It was so odd, seeing them in this domestic light. While everyone at work knew they were married, they didn’t really engage in a lot of PDA.

“If you want to thank me for that extremely acceptable dinner, I can think of a way.” Wilson rasped when he pulled away from the kiss.

One of Wilson’s hands moved from it’s place by House’s hip, to grab a handful of his ass.

Chase immediately turned back to the game. That was more than he needed to know about the intimate dynamics of their marriage. He quickly finished his food, and excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned House was on the floor in front of the TV, pulling at something on the stand.

“Wilson!” He exclaimed, far louder than necessary given that Wilson was just in the kitchen.

“Yes, Darling?” Wilson came into the living room, hands on his hips and smirk on his face.

“Where are the cables for the PlayStation?”

Wilson’s eyes lit up, seeming quite pleased with himself. Chase wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was going on.

“It’s your night to do the dishes.” Wilson stated, still in his hands on hips position.

“Are you hard of hearing? I said where are the cords for the PlayStation.” House over emphasized, staring at Wilson with a Jack Nicholson level stare.

“And I’ll tell you where the cords for the PlayStation are, as soon as you’ve done the dishes.” Wilson mocked.

“You really think that will make me do the dishes? I’m a genius, you think I can’t just find the cords?” House argued.

“That’s exactly what I think. You can either spend hours searching for the cords, which you won’t find by the way, and then do the dishes or you can spend ten minutes doing the dishes now, then I’ll give you the cords, and you can be playing GTA before the sun goes down. But it’s up you, genius.”

Wilson looked exactly like the cat that got the canary as House used the coffee table to help push himself up off the floor, grumbling about how rude it was to make cripples do chores.

“I put the stool in front of the sink for you so you don’t have to stand!” Wilson called after him, before starting a ridiculous and frankly awkward looking dance of victory.

Twenty minutes later House limps back into the living room, declaring the dishes complete. Wilson goes as far as to inspect the kitchen, including opening the oven for some reason, before opening the cupboard under the sink and pulling out a blue bucket filled with cleaning supplies. Reaching his hand inside he produces the cords, handing them to House.

“There you go, have fun.” He says with a fond smile.

Chase is truthfully confused. Wilson cooked dinner, had his food stolen by House, at some point he took apart their PlayStation and hid the cords just to bribe House into doing a completely normal household task, and yet he seems completely unbothered. In fact he seems to be enjoying himself.

House, on the other hand, seems slightly less abrasive though he wouldn’t go as far as to call him caring. He doesn’t really know why the incredibly kind Wilson tolerates him as his spouse.

Once House has the PlayStation up and running Wilson brings them each another beer and together the three of them play a few rounds of Mario Kart. They are all competitive and while Chase never manages to beat House, he takes solace in the fact Wilson does.

“Would you guys mind if I went out for a run? I like going to this trail just outside town so I’ll be gone a couple hours.” Chase asks.

“Sure but don’t think you can you use our shower.” House says, getting up from the couch to hobble over to the piano bench.

“He’s joking. Of course you can go for your run and of course you can shower after.” Wilson shoots a look at House, who is staring innocently down at the keys of the instrument.

Chase changes in the bathroom, and when he returns to the living room Wilson curled up on the couch reading a book while House plays a quiet, gentle melody. It’s shockingly domestic and Chase puts on his shoes and slips out the door quietly, not wanting to disturb them.

When Chase returns from his run, Wilson is still sitting on the couch but now he’s watching a black and white film on TV. House is stretched out across the couch, right foot propped up on the arm, left foot tucked under his right knee, and his head in Wilson’s lap. He’s also snoring softly.

“Is he…” Chase trails off as he toes off his running shoes.

“Asleep? Yeah.” Wilson says, not turning from the TV.

Wilson’s fingers are in House’s hair. Just absentmindedly stroking as he watches his movie. They look very sweet, the two of them.

He walks as softly as possible to the kitchen for some water, opening the fridge gently.

“You don’t have to worry about being quiet. He’ll sleep until I wake him up.” Wilson says.

He’s not watching the movie now, he’s staring down at House’s sleeping form with that fond smile on his face again, like House is the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen. Chase can’t imagine what about the misanthropic doctor makes Wilson so happy.

As Chase passes behind the couch, heading for a shower, Wilson stops him.

“Hey, can you pass me the blanket that’s on the floor behind the couch? It’s usually over the back where I can reach it but I didn’t notice it had fallen.” He explains.

Chase grabs the blanket. It’s brown and fuzzy, very soft. He wonders how Wilson plans on getting himself under the blanket without suffocating House when Wilson tosses the blanket down the couch to cover House’s body. He isn’t totally successful though, the blanket falls at House’s knees, bunched up.

“Would you mind pulling it over him the rest of the way? When it’s on the back of the couch I can pull it down to cover him but my throwing skills need work.” Wilson says.

Chase does as he’s asked. The blanket is quite large and covers house from shoulders to feet quite easily. It occurs to him that what Wilson said implies this happens a lot - House snoozing on the couch using Wilson as a pillow.

“Thanks, he gets cold when he’s sleeping.”

“Does he usually fall asleep at 9pm?” Chase finds himself asking. Wilson chuckles.

“Sometimes. People tend to write it off, because of his other eccentricities, but he does have chronic pain. It can be pretty tiring.”

Chase momentarily feels bad. While House’s frequent Vicodin popping reminds them that House does experience pain, they tend to forget that the pills don’t make him pain free, they just keep him standing. Chase heads for the shower with this in mind.

When he’s towelling off he can hear Wilson in the other room talking to House.

“Greg, wake up.”

There is some unintelligible grumbling from House.

“I know Baby, come on. Chase is going to be out of the bathroom soon so you’ve got to get up.” Wilson’s voice is terribly gentle.

Chase runs the towel through his hair, and hears more caterwauling from House.

“You can bring the blanket with you, and I’ll still cuddle with you in the bedroom.”

Chase lets out a small laugh at that. He never would have pegged House as the cuddly type.

“My cane - it’s in the kitchen.”

The first actual words he’s heard from House. Chase is fully dressed and could walk out at any time, but he finds he doesn’t want too. He’s learned a little about them as a couple from watching them at home, but he’s curious about their interactions when he isn’t in the room.

“Just lean on me Baby.”

And Chase can’t imagine House willingly leaning on anyone to help him walk, yet the next sound he hears is the uneven gait of the two of them.

“Leg’s sore.” House says, their voices growing closer.

“You’ve just been laying down on the couch for nearly two hours, I’m not surprised. You’ve got some pills in the bedroom, we’ll get you your bedtime dose and it’ll feel a little better. I can massage it too.”

“Hmm, love you Jimmy.”

“I love you too, Greg.”

Chase is well and truly shocked. House leaning on Wilson to walk, admitting his leg is bothering him, saying ‘I love you’, it’s all so un-House like.

When he hears the door to the bedroom close, he finally leaves the bathroom to get the couch ready. The light above the stove has been left on, and he isn’t sure if it’s for his benefit or if they always leave it on.

As he arranges the bedding to his liking, and when he’s settled down he mulls over his experience with House and Wilson over the course of the evening.

He is reminded of a cat that used to live around the dumpsters near his school when he was young. It had been white at one time but it appeared more brown from the dirt the caked in it’s fur. It was a vicious thing, anytime you got anywhere neat it, it would hiss and arch it’s back. His friends liked to laugh at it, but one day after school he went back with some food for it. He felt sort of bad for the thing.

It became somewhat of a ritual and slowly the cat stopped hissing at him when he would bring the food, until one day he was able to touch it. Eventually it would roll over on it’s back and purr when he came to see it, but only if it was just him.

He tried to bring his friend to see the cat once, but despite him having food and it being only the two of them, the cat hissed and arched its back before disappearing behind the dumpster. His friend had laughed and claimed he knew that cat couldn’t like anyone. He went back after supper that night and sure enough the cat greeted him happily.

He remembers how special it made him feel, to know that cat was friendly only to him. Even if no one else would ever know, he did.

And he supposes that’s how Wilson feels about House.

[housethemd]

Okay so I have an idea for a fic but it would be like…probably very long

Basically what if House and Wilson were in a secret relationship for like…years. Like they got together not long after they met but they were both in the closet and while House doesn’t hate the idea of coming out, Wilson is terrified.

He starts dating and eventually marrying Bonnie because “People are starting to talk, House. I just need the deniability.” So House starts to date Stacy because he isn’t going to twiddle his thumbs while his boyfriend persues a heterosexual relationship for image sake. (And House does genuinely like Stacy.) This puts a lot of distance between them emotionally and physically (more than usual for a closet gay couple.)

The infarction happens while Wilson is away on a trip with Bonnie and while he comes running back it’s too late. Stacy already had the surgery House didn’t want done and all that’s left is trying to help him heal. House is angry that Wilson was gone when it happened because he had to go through one of the scariest moments of his life without his boyfriend and Wilson feels guilty. A few months after the infarction House and Stacy break up, and Wilson starts staying with House to help him, leading to the end of his marriage to Bonnie.

Wilson lives with House for a while, a House thinks things might finally go back to the way they were before Wilson decided he needed a marriage to help deny any allegations of homosexuality between the two of them. So what if people think it’s weird two guys in their 30’s are roommates?

But Wilson can’t stand that people think their gay, he has so much internalized homophobia that the idea people might think he’s gay scares the shit out of him. So he ends up with Julie.

Then there is all the canon stuff but I feel like my fic would end when Wilson proposes to House, but instead of Wilson doing it to sabotage House’s chances with Nora he’s doing it because he’s decided he’s tired of hiding.

It’s a 100% genuine proposal, and House says yes.

[housethemd]

Lines In The Sand/Autistic House Headcanons pt. 2

This episode left a lot of us confused. What exactly were we supposed to take from it. Is House autistic or not? Well I think yes, and here’s why:

The biggest confusing component is of course Wilson’s little monologue at the end where he tells House “You aren’t autistic, you don’t even have Aspergers, you just wish you did.” I think that Wilson says this not because it’s true, but because House doesn’t want his autism to be common knowledge.

Think about it. Wilson literally uses the “House probably has autism” argument to get House his carpet back, right before he says this. I think Wilson knows for a fact that House has autism.

I feel like House would probably never volunteer the information, but after a couple years of friendship Wilson, being a doctor himself who would have at one point done a psych rotation, starts putting together all of House’s “quirks” (picky about food, always moving/playing with things, doesn’t quite make eye contact, social issues) and finally asks “Have you ever considered you might have autism?”

And House just scoffs and says “Took you long enough. I thought you were a doctor?” Even though he was panicking a little because his father scared him into thinking that he had to keep his diagnosis a secret when he was a child.

But Wilson just quietly accommodates him. They never talk about it, but Wilson learns over the years the best ways to support House. He also realizes that House is quietly terrified of people knowing he’s autistic.

So Wilson implies to Cuddy that House might be autistic to get House what he needs, but then turns around and in full view of the hospital, says House doesn’t have it, that he’s just an ass. It’s easy to throw people off the scent because people want to believe he’s just an ass (and lets be honest, House is autistic and an ass.)

I headcanon that after work that night Wilson comes over for pizza and a movie and while House is standing at the island getting his food he says,

“Thanks for… you know, today.” It’s spoken quietly, without looking up from his plate.

“We wouldn’t want you to lose your mystique.” Wilson replies, because he knows that House acknowledging what happened is a big deal and getting to serious about it would make him uncomfortable.

House laughs and smiles at Wilson’s joke.

“House, can I give you a hug?” Wilson asks.

He always asks, knows House needs to prepare for the sensation. He hadn’t understood at first, but once House described being touched unexpectedly as eliciting the same sensation as nails on a chalkboard does, that god awful shiver down your body that takes so long to go away. Wilson knows how awful that is, and never wants to make House feel like that.

House nods his consent, and Wilson is coming up behind House to wrap his arms around his arms and chest and squeeze him tight. Wilson knows the best way to hug House: come from behind so it doesn’t bother his face, arms around his chest, and nice and tight so he feels the pressure he loves so much. They stay like that for a few moments before House is pulling away, claiming they’ll miss the start of their show if they don’t go out to the living room now.

Wilson smiles to himself, happy that House trusts him enough to share this part of himself with him.

[housethemd]

Would anybody want to read a fic where House and Wilson are married when House has the infarction and (because Wilson is the only one to ever convince House of anything) Wilson convinces House to have his leg amputated.

It would probably just be a one shot around S1 and just about what would life have been like for them if that was the case.

(It would be happier)

[housethemd]

Did Anybody Ask For My Personal Opinion On Who Wilson’s Other Brother Is? On The Larger Wilson Family Structure? On Wilson’s Life Before He Met House?

No? Okay perfect.

The oldest is David Wilson. He’s 4-5 years older than James. He was always smart, and received a lot of praise for all his success. He is a lawyer, and is married with two children. He married young, which thrilled his parents.

Then there is Danny Wilson. I assume Danny is short for Daniel. He is 2 years younger than James. He was always kind of a loner, and while James and Danny did play together as very young kids, the older Danny got the less he had any interest in playing with others, including James. He was prone to getting distracted or overwhelmed in public places and James was always the one to make sure he stayed safe. His parents were always at a loss with what to do with him, but James always seemed to understand him.

Then of course our beloved James Wilson. Middle child, living in the shadow of his older brother and his younger brothers keeper. His successes were never celebrated the way David’s were, because even if he got straight A’s (which he did) David always did it first, and his family seemed to find things less impressive the second time around.

Forced to grow up early to care for his younger brother, he had a hard time relating to kids his own age so he spent a lot of time at home watching movies and TV. He did extracurriculars through his school when he got to high school to pad his resume (he already knew he wanted to go to med school) and while everyone liked him, he didn’t have any close friends.

He learns how to become what people want him to be. How to cater to their needs. He spends his whole life being what everyone else needs him to be.

The first time he strays from that is when Danny calls while he’s in med school studying for that big exam. He hangs up on him, and then Danny goes missing. His family doesn’t understand how he could hang up on his brother like that, why he would do that, they think it’s so out of character for him.

He meets Sam, and desperately wanting to get back in his family’s good books he marries her quickly. He wants to follow in his older brothers footsteps, do what you are supposed to do, want what you are supposed to want. So he marries Sam.

Two years later they are getting divorced. He gets the papers right before a medical conference. He carries them around, without the will to open them. He hasn’t told his family yet.

Someone keeps playing “Leave a Tender Moment Alone” on the jukebox. He asks nicely for them to stop, he really does, he tries to be the bigger person, to keep to the persona that he only dropped once because last time he dropped it he lost his brother, but he can’t. He’s pissed off by the song, but more so he’s pissed off that his persona means he can’t do anything about it, why does everyone need him to be so nice all the time? Care about their problems? What about him? He’s a person too, what about his problems?

And the anger boils over. He throws a bottle, breaks a mirror, and gets arrested. He’s sitting in a jail cell, trying to figure out how he’s going to tell his family that not only is he getting divorced but he’s gotten arrested and feeling like he has the worst luck in the world when a police officer comes in and says a friend is bailing him out. He’s confused, he doesn’t have friends.

Outside the jail, he meets Gregory House.

For the first time someone sees past the persona. No matter what he does House always sees past it, to the person he really is. The person he convinced himself no one would like.

For the first time, he has a real friend.

[housethemd]

What if House/Wilson/Amber had a baby?

Amber finds out she’s pregnant, but there is no way to know if it was Wilson or House who fathered the child.

They spend the entire nine months she is pregnant bickering over who the father is (well House and Amber bicker, Wilson stops them when they get to mean.)

They have a little girl, and for logical reasons they list Wilson as the father on her birth certificate, but they raise her together.

As she grows she turns into the spitting image of Amber, making it harder for them to discern her biological father. House argues she has blue eyes, thus she must be his. Wilson argues back that his mother has blue eyes, therefore he could produce a blue eyed child. They all lay in bed at night sometimes and debate certain features or behaviour of their daughter, but they all know the truth.

They don’t want to know who’s she is biologically.

The unknowing makes them feel like she really does belong to the three of them.

(And maybe she grows up and does a 23 and me or something and pretty much accidentally tells them who her biological father is, by way of relaying results.)

[housethemd]

Good Morning

(Married House/Wilson, kid fic, takes place in the same universe as “Expect the Unexpected.”)

Wilson’s alarm goes off at 5:00am. Groaning, he rolls over to shut it off. He yawns, and runs a hand down his face. They stayed up far too late last night, but with three children age six and under the only time they get to themselves is after the kids are sound asleep.

Last night grown up time lasted until after midnight. Past Wilson hadn’t cared about the late hour as he made love to his husband, and while present Wilson is very tired he can’t quite bring himself to say last night was a bad idea. Gone are the days where they did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, so it’s always wonderful when they take the opportunity to connect.

He rolls over a presses a kiss to the thinning hair on the top of his sleeping husbands head. House doesn’t stir, and Wilson finally finds the willpower to pull himself out of their warm bed. The hardwood is cold beneath his feet as he shuffles over to the other side of the bed to grab the baby monitor off House’s bedside table.

Over the years they’ve worked out an arrangement that seems to work for them most of the time. House handles the kids during the night - feedings, diaper changes, requests for glasses of water or giving comfort after bad dreams. House is usually up multiple times a night anyway because of his leg and he insists that getting up and moving helps. It was his idea for him to manage the kids at night.

Wilson handles the kids after 5am until their nanny comes at 8:00am. He has always been a morning person, so it’s much easier for him to manage the kids in the early morning while House has a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Making his way into the kitchen he follows the smell of coffee. One of the best investments they ever made was a coffee pot with a timer, so now Wilson has freshly brewed coffee as soon as he wakes up every morning. Placing the baby monitor on the counter he pours himself a cup and takes a big sip, basking in the temporary silence.

Elijah, their nine month old, will be up soon. He is usually up around 5:30am, so Wilson wakes up at 5am to have a few minutes of quiet before the games begin. Shortly after Eli, Leah will wake up and trying to keep a three and half year old quiet so her other father can sleep is a monumental task every morning. Six year old Evan, love his heart, will usually sleep until someone wakes him up. Wilson will go in around 6:30am, or if House gets up around then and sees Evan’s door still closed he’ll go in and wake him.

Wilson looks around the house, the house they bought last year after the confirmation that they’d soon be a family of five. It took a lot of hunting to find a home that would suit their needs. They not only needed space for their family, but anyplace with stairs was an immediate no given House’s disability. In the end they’d found their five bedroom bungalow on the edge of downtown Princeton and now Wilson couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

The clock on the stove reads 5:21 when a cry comes from over the baby monitor, pulling Wilson from his reverie. He makes his way into Eli’s room, turning on the lamp on the dresser by the door when he enters. The cries stop when the baby sees his daddy, replaced by babbling.

“Dadadada!” He squeals happily from his spot sitting up in the crib.

“Hey Buddy.” Wilson coos to his son as he picks him up.

He presses a kiss to his son’s forehead, who grins up at him. His eyes are big and brown, identical to Wilson’s own. He still doesn’t have much for hair, but what he has is fine and brown.

A quick diaper change and it’s back out the kitchen for breakfast. His highchair is on top of a plastic mat that is supposed to be used for painting, but Eli has recently started feeding himself with a small spoon which is excellent for his motor development, less excellent for the cleanliness of the kitchen floor.

Today’s breakfast is oatmeal and mashed banana. The baby chews a teething toy from the freezer as Wilson prepares his breakfast. He babbles intermittently, which results in Wilson babbling back.

Eli is only half way through eating and spilling his breakfast down his bib, the tray, and onto the floor when Leah appears in the kitchen. She is slow to wake up, and always has the most adorable grumpy face in the mornings. She’s wrapped her purple baby blanket around her like a cape, and just stares at her father like he can read her mind. Something he swears she learned from House.

“Good morning Sweetheart.” He says softly.

“Want peanut butter toast.” She demands. Something Wilson also swears she learned from House.

“How do we ask nicely?” He responds gently.

“Want peanut butter toast, please.” She tries again.

He’ll take it.

By 6:30 the dishes from breakfast round one are in the sink, and he’s got Eli dressed and playing in his excersaucer in the living room. He manges to work through the daily outfit drama when dressing Leah (who knew a three and a half year old could be so picky about their clothes) before he hears the sound of Evan’s bedroom door opening.

He sticks his head out from Leah’s room to catch him on his way by while Leah fights with her socks.

“Good morning, I’ll be out in a sec to make something for you for breakfast.” He smiles at his oldest.

“Okay Daddy.” He says with a stretch and a yawn.

A shrill screech sounds from behind him, and Wilson turns rapidly only to see Leah throwing her socks across the room.

“Hey hey, if you are having trouble with something you can ask for help. There is no need to throw things or yell.” Wilson says softly but sternly.

He’d dreaded the terrible two’s when Leah had turned that age, because Evan had been a struggle at that age. However Leah had been more or less a pleasant two year old. He’d thought that meant they were in for relatively smooth sailing but then he’d learned a new term - threenager.

He loves his little girl more than words could say, just as he loves all his kids but mornings are hard with her right now. There is usually at least one tantrum and he has to try and calm her down before she wakes House while still teaching better ways of dealing with big feelings.

The sound of a cane hitting the floor in the hall mean he’s been unsuccessful this morning.

“The socks didn’t feel right.” Leah informs him, looking up with her big brown eyes.

“Okay, well next time how about you let me know right away, and Daddy will get you different socks.” He says, reaching into her sock drawer to pull out a different pair.

He thought he’d selected her current favorite socks, but apparently her favourite had changed. Once the new socks are approved and on her feet Wilson presses a kiss to her head.

“How about you go play in the living room? I’m going to go get Evan his breakfast, okay?”

Leah nods, and grabbing a couple toys from her room heads to living room with Wilson not far behind.

When he makes in to the kitchen House is leaning on the counter with Evan sitting on the countertop next to him. They are both eating pop-tarts.

“Hi Daddy. Papa let me have one of this pop-tarts!” The boy enthused.

“Did he now?” Wilson replies, eyeing his husband.

“Thought I’d give you hand and feed our oldest” House says, taking a large bite out of the corner of his pop tart.

Wilson can’t help but smile. They try not to feed the kids overly surgery breakfasts, on school days at least, but he can’t bring himself to be frustrated. In fact he wishes he had the camera close by. Watching House and his 6 year old doppelgänger smile and laugh over pop tarts is so blissfully domestic and mundane that it melts Wilson’s heart.

Wilson approaches to press kisses to both their foreheads.

“Run and get dressed when you’ve finished eating, okay?” He directs his son.

“And you, give me a bite of your pop tart.” He says to his husband, stepping close to wrap his arms around his middle.

“I’m sorry, this is my pop tart.” House says innocently, holding the sweet monstrosity as far away from Wilson as he can.

“Hmm yes and we are married. That means anything that’s yours is legally half mine, and I want my portion.” Wilson cajoled, reaching to try and snatch the treat from House’s hand.

There is a brief scuffle that ends in Wilson managing to snap a corner off the pop tart and triumphantly popping it into his mouth. House glares at him while he eats it, but once he’s finished House gives him that crooked smile and Wilson can’t help but lean in and press a firm kiss to his lips.

“You guys are weird.”

Evan, who is still seated on the counter after finishing his breakfast, eyes them warily. He wasn’t quite to the age where he was grossed out by his parents affection, but he had started commenting on their more unusual antics.

“Proudly! I hope someday you find a man and/or woman to be this weird with. Now, go get dressed before Wendy gets here.” House directs, moving around Wilson to lift Evan off the counter and safely back down to the floor.

“You know I can jump down, right?” Evan says when House has him under the armpits.

“Yes, I know. But it’s a little to early in the morning to give Daddy a heart attack, okay?” House says, ruffling Evan’s dark curls.

Evan laughed, “Okay Papa.” And scurries off to his bedroom.

“Man and/or woman?” Wilson questions.

“Yeah well, you never know what the kid might grow up to be into. Wouldn’t want to be heteronormative.” House jokes.

Wilson can’t help but laugh.

“Now, where were we?” House purrs.

House leans against the counter and grabs Wilson by his belt loops, pulling him to stand in the space between his legs. Wilson happily lets himself be guided and meets House’s lips with a deeper kiss this time. Wilson was about to introduce his tongue to the equation when a loud noise came from the living room, immediately followed by the piercing cry their nine month old.

Both Wilson and House were in the living room in a second. Leah stood with wooden blocks surrounding her feet, looking slightly guilty, and Elijah was in his excersaucer bawling his head off.

With a glance to one another, they made the silent decision to divide and conquer. Wilson went to Eli, scooping him up and bouncing him while making a litany of soothing sounds.

House went to Leah, pushing blocks out of the way so he could sit on the floor at her level.

“Sorry Papa. I wanted to build a really really really big tower but I knocked it over. I didn’t mean to make Eli cry.” She said, batting her eyelashes in a way Wilson knows House is weak for. Their little girl truly has him wrapped around her finger.

“I know you didn’t mean to, but mornings are for quiet play, right?” House says, attempting to be stern.

“My tower was quiet.” She said.

“Yes, right up until it fell over. That’s why we don’t make big towers in the morning, right? Because they usually fall down. You are lucky none of the blocks hit Eli, but you scared him pretty bad.” House gestured to where Eli was still whimpering in Wilson’s arms.

“I made the tower far enough away so even if it fell it wouldn’t hit him.” She informs House. God, was she ever House’s daughter.

“I’m glad you thought of that, but there is still a rule against big towers in the morning, right?” House says, shooting her a serious look.

“Right. I’m sorry.” She says, looking appropriately contrite.

Wilson smiles at the scene before him. It’s not that he enjoys his daughter getting scolded, but that House does it so gently. When he and House got married he thought he couldn’t possibly love him anymore than he did in that moment. But parenting with House, while at times difficult as parenting always is, has ultimately made him love his husband even more.

Eli had calmed down now, and while House helped Leah pick up all the blocks and put them away Wilson glanced at his watch. 7:45am.

“Shit, House, we are leaving in 15 minutes. Leah, sweetie, you’ll have to pick up your blocks yourself. Papa needs to get ready for work.” Wilson says, and shoos House out of the living room and down the hall to their bedroom.

Wilson manages to hold the baby and help Leah pick up the blocks because it is truly a lot of blocks. How he didn’t notice what she was doing when he went to the kitchen was beyond him.

He puts Eli in his swing and turns it on. Soon he’s going to be to big for it, Wilson laments. He puts on the TV, Blues Clues playing and gets Leah settled on the couch just in time for there to be a knock on the door before it opens and Wendy, their nanny, walks in.

“Hello Wilson-House’s!” She greets, and Leah runs over to her, as does Evan who has reappeared from his room dressed for school.

Wilson leaves her to greet the children and goes in search of his husband. He finds House in the bedroom dressed in faded jeans and a black Motley Cru t-shirt. He’s pulling a navy blue button up over it, his usual work outfit.

“About ready to go?” Wilson asked.

They are driving in together this morning, as this evening is Evan’s parent-teacher night. They make a point to attend these things together, they are already a unique family and they want to show they are every bit as happy and functional as any other.

“Yeah, ready.” House grabs one of his sport coats off the back of the door and picks up his cane from where it was leaning on the wall.

They walk out to the living room where Wendy has Evan and Leah on either side of her on the couch, and Eli is still happily batting at the toys attached to his swing.

They say goodbye to each kid individually, each getting a hug and a kiss and an “I love you, have a good day.” Wilson is endlessly thankful that they can do this without tears for the moment. Nothing prepared him for the heartbreak of having to leave his crying child while he went to work, and he knows House felt the same. He knows they are in for another period of it. There is a good chance when Eli gets to be a toddler he’ll go through a phase of not wanting Daddy and Papa to leave, but they’ll get through it just like they did with Evan and Leah.

They make it to Wilson’s Volvo. They both just breathe for a minute, taking in the silence. Wilson turns to House, placing his hand on House’s thigh.

“Good morning.” He says, for the first time yet this morning.

“Good morning to you too.” House laughs.

[housethemd]

Come in from the Cold

House/Wilson established relationship

Written based on a prompt from @griffin-11

This wasn’t what I was expecting to write when I got the prompt, but it’s what happened!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bite of early January always sinks into his bones in a way he can’t shake. The trip from the car to the apartment takes twice as long as it does in other seasons, lest he slip on the icy ground. No amount of complaints to the building’s management about the state of the steps in the wintertime have any effect. They insist the stairs are perfectly passable, which may be true for the even footed but are treacherous to his uneven gait.

Snowflakes flutter to the ground, fluffy and large, adding the existing two feet of snow already on the ground. For a moment he remembers winters from a decade ago. When weather such as this would mean a trip to upstate New York, to a ski resort where he and Wilson would spend weekends on the slopes. Wilson skied, but he always prefered snowboarding. He liked the speed, the balance it required, the feeling of the wind burning his cheeks as he hurdled towards the bottom of the hill, the satisfaction he got from safely reaching the bottom of the difficult hills, having dodged trees and other obstacles the whole way down. But those days are long behind him now, and the memory stings almost as much as the cold.

Every second spent outside is painful, as even his long wool coat can’t protect the crater in his thigh from the sub-zero temperatures. A mess of missing muscle and over sensitive nerve endings, the cold burns bright hot. He limps heavily up the few stairs into the building, doing his best to strike a balance between speed, safety, and keeping pain to a minimum. When he finally breaches the threshold into 221 Baker Street he lets the door fall shut behind him, and leans on it heavily.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

He grips his thigh tightly, desperately trying to rub the stiff burning from what remains of his leg, as the mantra plays in his mind. Wilson always tried to get him to breathe through the pain. He always argued that it was new age bull crap, right up there with auras and chakras. Breathing wouldn’t regrow this missing muscle, breathing wouldn’t fix the damaged nerves, and breathing certainly wouldn’t get rid of the mangled mess of partially numb, partially hypersensitive scar tissue that marred his right thigh. Still, he tries. Wilson doesn’t know he tries when Wilson isn’t around, and he always gripes when Wilson makes him try, but he tries all the same because that’s what people in relationships do. They try.

When the breathing mumbo jumbo doesn’t work he reaches into his pocket to pull out his Vicodin bottle and dry swallow two of the white, chalky tablets. The bitter taste promises some relief, though he knows it will only do so much. His leg will take hours to warm up, and only then will the pain reduce to its usual daily level. He really hates Winter.

Sucking a breath through his teeth he limps slowly towards his door, pausing to pull out his keys he can hear the puttering sounds of Wilson moving about their now shared apartment. He was unsure about Wilson moving in, his one and only stint with cohabitation had been with Stacy, but had since found it was not completely terrible. It was nice not being alone all the time, and Wilson was probably the only person in the world he could stand to have around all the time, though he’d never say that out loud.

When he enters the apartment Wilson pops out from the kitchen, smiling fondly.

“Oh wipe that look off your face. You saw me three hours ago.” He scoffs, shucking his coat and letting it fall to the ground.

The apartment smells like Wilson’s cooking. The living room is tidy in a lived-in sort of way. Wilson is dressed in sweats and his McGil sweatshirt, but is barefoot. The entire scene is so warm and domestic it warms his heart and makes him nauseous in equal measure.

“What? A guy can’t look happy when a handsome man walks into his home?” Wilson asks, arms crossed.

“Sure he can. He just can’t look happy when an old, misanthropic, cripple walks into his home.” He shoots back.

“Oh right. I always confuse those two.” Wilson smiles, leaning on the door jam and throwing the dish towel he had been holding over his shoulder.

House managed to remove his shoe from his right foot, but as he shifts his weight onto his right leg and cane to remove his left he has to stop, a pained noise slipping unbidden past his lips as pain shoots through him. Wilson is beside him in an instant, one hand on his back and the other on his chest, ready to support his weight should he need it.

“Hey hey hey, what’s going on?” Wilson asked gently.

“Stupid cold weather. Cripples don’t do well in the cold.” He grumbled, not meeting Wilson’s eyes.

“Alright well let’s get you off your feet. You're inside now, so the pain should lessen up soon, yeah?” Wilson tried to encourage.

Wilson knew the cold bothered him, but House had never really been clear to what extent. He weighed his options now, agreeing that he would soon feel better and spend the rest of the evening trying to hide his pain or admitting that the cold made things worse than he’d let on. On the one hand he could keep a little bit of his dignity, but would likely end the evening fighting with Wilson over something stupid. On the other hand Wilson would enter full caring mode, and spend the evening doting on him, and that always gave him a weird feeling in the bit of his stomach.

“It… takes a while for my leg to warm up. Damaged blood vessels and nerves. I thought you were a doctor? Just, let me go to bed.” He grumbled, staring at the floor.

“Wouldn’t a hot bath help? Or at least a heating pad?” Wilson reached out to rub circles on his shoulder.

“No. Too much heat at once makes it worse, just let me go to bed, dammit!” He snapped, and it seemed that his honesty still resulted in a stupid fight.

Wilson said nothing, but supported his weight from the door to the bedroom. As soon as House was seated on the bed he turned and left. With a deep sigh House stripped down to his boxers and climbed under the blankets. He winced when he swung his right leg onto the mattress, pain shooting down into the rest of his leg. He closed his eyes, naming infectious diseases in alphabetical order in an attempt to distract himself to sleep. His leg was killing him and he had a pissed off boyfriend in the other room, sleep was truly his best option at this point.

He’s just starting to get through the B’s when the bed dips behind him.

Wilson has stripped down to his boxers as well, and is carrying what appears to be every blanket they own in his arms. He begins pulling them over the bed, over the lump of House’s body. Creating heavy layers that aren’t at all unpleasant.

“What are you doing?” House asked, trying to sound annoyed.

“Warming you up.” Wilson replied.

“Then why are you practically naked?”

Wilson just smiles, and as the last blanket is smoothed out over the bed he slides underneath them, curling his body around House’s. Wilson radiates warmth, and House can admit it’s nice, though it will be awhile before the heat sinks into his leg. He’s about to say as much when Wilson places one large, warm hand over the scar on his leg. The body temperature heat isn’t enough to aggravate the nerves, but is enough to soothe them. Wilson runs hotter than House, apparently just enough hotter that his body can provide a small amount of relief to his painful leg.

“How's that?” Wilson asked, breath tickling the hairs on the back of House’s neck.

“It’s fine. Weren’t you doing something when I got home?” House questioned, pretending not to enjoy having his boyfriend as his personal heater.

“Nothing that can’t wait. Nothing more important than this.”

House feels strangely choked up. He hates when Wilson does this to him. He shouldn’t be getting emotional over a cuddle session in bed, no matter how much it helps his pain. He opts to say nothing, but feels Wilson smile against his skin regardless.

“Go to sleep, House.”

The pressure of the blankets, the feeling of Wilson’s body against him, and the warmth of his hand radiating into his scarred thigh have his eyes feeling heavy. He slips into sleep with the sound of Wilson’s breathing as a lullaby.