fandom_clinic | Clinic Hours - Tuesday November 22nd 2005

The passage of air was LOUD today and Wilson moved very, very carefully in an attempt to keep the air as still as possible. He was late opening the Clinic not because he was late getting *to* the Clinic but because he was moving very slowly…in the hope of keeping the air really quiet.

Getting the doors open, he started a pot of coffee and sucked back the third 20oz bottle of water he’d been drinking since about oh…not too many hours ago. Putting a happy face on, he managed to do rounds without passing out, which was a blessing, checking in on Rory, Logan and Jack before crawling back up to the front desk.

Sitting down, very carefully –DAMN AIR WILL YOU SHUT UP!- Wilson leaned forward till he could cradle his head on his forearms. Seven…liquors….what the hell had he been thinking last night?

That it felt good to laugh a little and not hurt…andohGodI’mnottwentyanymore

Dragging his water bottle down into his lap to snuggle it close, Wilson reached for the half a piece of bagel he’d been trying to choke down for over an hour now. He was about half-way through it. By noon he might be finished with it.

If I live that long…Crowley is going to kill me.

Taking a slow breath, Wilson sat up and reached for a chart. He was being in his charting and really needed to catch up, if the little black squiggly lines would just stay still long enough for him to read them.

Doctor on Duty.

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House nodded, and gnawed on his bottom lip. Wilson looked like crap, and House felt helpless in the face of it. He was a doctor, he'd lived his life curing people from deadly, often ellusive diseases. He rarely bonded with them, avoided even speaking to them if he could help it.

Wilson wasn't a patient he could shirk off on his staff. Wilson was...his lover. Wilson was the one thing he'd found in his life that made him feel whole despite the half a leg he dragged around. Or maybe in spite of it.

"When do you think you can sneak out of here?" House's expression softened.

Scooting the chair he was sitting on towards House, Wilson reached past the crutches for the bad leg. Anyone walking in would probably make rude comments but the gentle massage would hopefully help.

"Soon." He said, looking up at House with a soft smile of his own. "There's a bit of a full house in Rory's room and I want to check Jack...thinking about springing him out of here tonight. We're running out of exam rooms."

Eyes moved back to the leg as he worked damaged muscle with a loving, tender touch.

"But soon."

House smiled a soft, genuine smile when Wilson looked up at him. His eyes closed when Wilson's eyes shifted back to his leg. He caught his foot around his left leg, to give some stability under Wilson's gentle hands.

"How long has that leech been back there?" House inclined his head toward Jack's room. "We should get a plaque, have a dedication ceremony for the official Mmm Jack Exam Room."

There was a catch in his voice, loving fingers hitting a sore spot. He winced, sucked in a breath. It passed, quickly, but left him teetering on the balance of the crutches.

Wilson chuckled softly. "We do not count the days, we simply administer the medical care." He said it as if reading something off by rote.

"I plan to tell him I don't want to see him until the first of the year, at least not in a patient capacity. I expect he'll be back in ten days." There was a good natured sort of affection in his tone and he finished with as much as he could do while House was still standing, straightening to look up at the older man.

"You want me to get something for dinner before I come back to the apartment?"

"Sounds like a plan, since I know I wouldn't be much good in the kitchen tonight." As if they ever actually cooked. House was really interested to see how Thanksgiving Dinner would turn out.

He rocked back on his left foot. "You have magic hands, you know. It feels better." He smiled. "I'm gonna go work on my hand eye coordination with the Play Station. I'll see you soon."

"Kill some little alien doohickies for me." Wilson said by way of a goodbye, his eyes tracking House until the older man turned the corner in the hallway.

Smiling, softly he reached up and rubbed at his still throbbing temple. Okay, promised to bring something in for dinner...now the question was, what the hell was he going to go get.

Clinic Hours - Tuesday November 22nd 2005

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