| FIC UPDATE: The Oncologist Trap (House/Wilson, PG, 4b/6) |
[Aug. 1st, 2007|03:15 pm] |
Title: The Oncologist Trap, 4b/6
Fandom: House, M.D.
Pairing/Rating: House/Wilson, PG.
Length: 900 words, this part.
Spoilers: Post-ep for "Half-Wit", mentions of events up to "House Training".
Author's Notes: Okay, guys, after a hiatus for real life and writing a monster epic, we're back! Here's the end of part four. If you want to read the whole story (I know, it's been so long, my apologies), then you can see it with the story tag.
Summary: House subtly seduces Wilson. Somehow.
Foreman resists hauling House out of the oncology wards by the scruff of his neck, but only by the slimmest margin. What stops him is the fury and kicked-puppy fear on the parents' faces when House grins at their probably-dying children. Foreman knows that look of "I'm about to sue your hospital down to the last bedpan" and it's not one he's going to get mixed up in. He does not plan to get in the way of House and the royal ass-kicking that Cuddy is going to righteously deliver. The kids don't mind at all--they probably know they're dying; kids are sensible like that--and besides, House has already magicked a quarter out of one boy's central line. From the look on his face, the kid's going to think he has a gold mine in his aorta for at least a week.
"You don't all have quarters in you," House is saying, exasperated, as a little girl points to her surgical scar and stares up at him with big green eyes. Foreman does his best not to chuckle. House rolls his eyes and waves his hand over the scar. "Oh, fine. Look, it's a nickel. Astonishing. Now--"
"House, what are you doing?"
Foreman turns around in relief. Wilson's standing at the front of the room, his hands on his hips, staring at House sternly. He's a bit rumpled, as if he ran his hands through his hair in exasperation when he got the nurse's page, and hurried to get here before House could start turning his cancer kids on to sex, drugs, and rock and roll. House spins around, already grinning, and takes Wilson in, leering at him from head to toe, and then back up again.
Foreman's never seen House smile quite that way before. He could almost believe that House really does find Wilson attractive. He's not even going to touch the idea that House might be in love.
"If I could have a word with you, Doctor House," Wilson says, before kneeling down to gently dislodge the girl with the surgical scar who's tugging on his pant leg and trying to show him her magical nickel.
"Sure," House says. "Bye, dying kids!"
"Do more tricks next time," the boy with the central line says.
"Don't think I can't tell you just want me for my money," House says. "Next time, no dirt, no quarters."
Wilson clears his throat.
"Gotta go," House says. "Dr. Wilson is mad at me."
The kids all nod seriously. House accepts their sympathy as his due, and then follows Wilson to the hallway, taking a seat on the visitor's chairs next to the nurses' station. He and the nurse who paged Wilson exchange a mutually suspicious glare.
"House, what the hell is going on with you today?" Wilson asks, putting one hand to his face and shaking his head. "Chase couldn't look me in the eye when I asked him what you were doing."
Foreman's not touching that with a ten-foot pole. He turns it over to House with a raised eyebrow. House looks up at Wilson, filled with wide-eyed innocence, fiddling with his cane. He's almost smiling, and he looks more open and honest than Foreman's ever seen him. He's probably about to lie right through his teeth.
Apparently, Wilson sees it too, because he holds out his hand and says, "Never mind."
"But--"
"I don't want to know," Wilson says. "Whatever it is. Go ahead, keep plotting. Drop a bucket of water on my head, shake my hand with a buzzer, put a whoopie cushion on my chair--"
"Is it suddenly the fifties?" House asks. "Are you worried I might give you a hotfoot, too?"
Wilson spreads his hands out to stop House from speaking. "Just...don't involve my patients. Especially the ones under the legal drinking age."
House gives a wounded sniff. "But those ones are the most fun to corrupt."
Wilson glances at Foreman. Foreman tries to project an aura of "My boss is a maniac," and "I hate everything," in approximately equal measures.
It seems to work.
"I'll...be going back to work now," Wilson says, narrowing his eyes at House. "And so will you." He tilts his head at Foreman, as if he's charging him with the responsibility of making sure House does exactly that. Foreman sighs and thinks about updating his CV. There have got to be better jobs than this.
"Fine," House calls after Wilson. "Let it be a surprise! I hope there isn't a history of heart attacks in your family!"
Wilson raises his arms in an 'I'm not listening' gesture, and House gets to his feet to better watch him go. "Dude," he says, nudging Foreman with his elbow, "I am so in."
"Shut up, House."
"It's probably destiny. Left over from a past life."
Foreman grits his teeth and starts back towards Diagnostics. "I don't want to know."
"Oh, and Foreman," House says, "one more thing."
Foreman turns around. "What?" he barks.
"Those parents are pretty pissed about the whole 'dying kids' thing. Deal with it, would you?" And House grins at him, and follows Wilson off the wards.
Foreman's left watching him go.
Worst. Day. Ever.
to be continued |
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