fandom_clinic | Clinic Hours - Thursday December 1st

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Clinic Hours - Thursday December 1st

It had dawned on Wilson, at about 3am that it was December 1st. He'd been working solidly at the school Clinic for two months and there was something he needed to do.

So, today the doctor was dressed in a red t-shirt over old ratty blue jeans with rubber soled boots on his feet. The smell of coffee filled the clinic waiting room as usual but the whole Clinic was also jamming out to the new Alanis Morissette CD. Maybe he'd taken a page from Crowley's book because the volumn on the stereo was BLASTING.

Wilson sung right along with Morissette, dancing in an exam room as he bent down next to the exam bed, unbolting it from the floor.

It had been two months he'd been working here and he realized that the clinic had not been strip cleaned in that whole time. Clean, cleaned of course but not strip cleaned. So he was spending the day dismantling each exam room to scrub them down with a AMA approved cleaning solution, the smell of the chemical mixing with the rich scent of coffee.

Wilson had to laugh a little. The last time he'd been involved in a strip clean he'd been a first year peon resident and even then, he'd been part of a team, not tackling 5 full rooms on his own. Ah well...hence the really loud music, the coffee and the dancing.

It was going to be a busy day.

Doctor is in, honest. Grab him if you need him or come dance with him if you'd like he's actually not a bad singer.

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You might have to actually find him and throw something at him to get his attention...unless you're just here to steal the coffee.

Stark wandered into the clinic ~~in no way intending to dance, because that would be too weird~~, shaking his head at the noise. He looked around for the doctor but didn't see him, and so started poking his head into various rooms in the back. "Hello...?"

Wilson had finished Exams 1 and 2 and was currently in 3, laying flat on his back, he was scrubbing under a cabinet. At least he'd stopped singing at this point.

"Afternoon, Stark!" The oncologist called out in a fairly chipper tone.

Surfacing from the cabinet he was a little sweaty and had a smudge of dust along one high cheek but brown eyes greeted Stark warmly.

"What do you need?"

"Afternoon, Doctor. Don't need anything. Came to see if you needed help with anything. Nothing to do this afternoon, thought I'd stop by. Do you need help?"

Wilson pursed his lips thoughtfully and tilted his head to the side, studying Stark.

"How do you feel about cleaning?"

Stark considered the question for a moment and then shook his head and smiled slightly.

"Don't mind cleaning at all."

Wilson grinned and nodded towards a bucket that contained a fresh solution of the chemical mixture.

"Put on a pair of rubber gloves and if you could start scrubbing down the walls where I've pulled everything away? That would be a great help."

Stark nodded and smiled at the doctor, grabbed the gloves and the bucket and set to work. He liked having something to do.

And there was plenty of cleaning to be done. For the most part, Wilson was quiet allowing the music to fill the room though he gave Stark the occasional bit of direction and if it looked like Stark might be curious he explained why they were doing what they were doing.

Hey doc... I'm back.

Wilson looked over from where he was busy unbolting a bed from the floor and he smiled at Shep, perhaps a bit bemusedly.

"Shep, I swear...if you didn't have student coverage, I'd be planning my retirement on your billing. How's the hand, any bleeding where we pulled the stitches?

Yeah... I'm starting to think I'm a little accident prone or something.

No bleeding, just a little itching. But you wanted to talk about the PT stuff?

Pulling over two rolly chairs, he waved Shep towards one of them. Going to the sink, he carefully washed his hands before sitting opposite him and reaching for the bad arm.

"Yes. I called your primary at MCV and while they're fairly confident of your recovery, they've faxed over a list of PT exercises they want you to start with me monitoring ROM weekly."

Rom... as in the little guy from Deep Space Nine or as in CD?

"Range of Movement." Wilson corrected as he very carefully worked the hand back and forth and side to side.

"Measures the healing progress of the muscle and tendon you damaged."

*Shep bites his lip, refusing to holler as Wilson pushes his hand into contortions it hasn't known in nearly two weeks. He's sure Wilson's barely moving it, but it hurts like hell anyway.*

I think the little Ferengi guy would be a lot more fun than this.

"Shep, I'm going to be brutally honest with you. A whole herd of sexually frustrated Klingons would be more fun than what you've got ahead of you."

Though his words were solid, his voice was kind.

"The key is to not overdo the exercises in one sitting. You're going to be tempted but for the first week I want you to do these exercises 3 times a day for 10 minutes each."

As he spoke, he gently worked some of the tension in the wrist and arm out with his fingers. The touch was warm but professionally clinical at the same time.

Thanks for that mental image. *Shakes head to rid it of the picture*

You think I'm going to *want* to move my hand for more than ten minutes at a time. Right now I'm thinking two minutes is gonna suck. *pouts and then sighs, knowing that it wouldn't get any better by him being an obnoxious patient.* Fine. What exactly am I supposed to do?

Standing up, Wilson left the room for a moment, returning with a file that he opened, pulling a couple sheets of paper free.

"These are the instructions that were sent over the fax. If you want, we can run through them here so you get a feel for what you want to do on your own?"

Shep shrugs fatalistically, he keeps telling himself that the sooner he starts this ~~torture~~ therapy, the sooner it'll get better... but he's not looking forward to it.

"Yeah. Okay, sure."

"Okay." Wilson said with a nod and pulling his stool closer to Shep, he showed the young man the instructions. It took about half an hour to walk through the instructions and do a few of the exercises and they were....

Yeah, no one ever claimed that PT was fun.

"So, think you can walk through those three times a day for the next 6 days?"

I like how you ask that like I actually have the option to say 'no'.

*smiles wryly*

If I don't, I suspect Lana and Han and everyone else who saw me bleeding will kick my ass. Not to mentioned I'm side-lined in martial arts class until this gets sorted out.

*flexes fingertips a little and winces. This was so gonna suck.*

"You always have the option to say 'no' Shep." Wilson said directly. "But it's whether you want to live with the consequences of that answer that you need to ask yourself."

Standing, Wilson walked over to where he'd been dismantling... something...and he picked up the tool he needed.

"You have good friends. Let them help you and this will quickly be over and a distant memory."

Well, yes, I realize that... I just meant that ... I don't know there was a plan B or soemthing if I didn't like the first idea. Not having my left hand really isn't a viable choice, you know.

So... this stuff for 6 days and then what?

"No plan B I'm afraid." Getting down on his back, Wilson worked the wrench in his hands, chasing after a bit of pipe.

"After the 6 days, I eval you and clear you for the next step. It's going to be a step by step process Shep."

The bass line from he music vibrated well into the apartment. House was awake, though still in the bed. He rolled over and dragged himself up and out, and into the shower.

Refreshed and lured by curiosity to see what Wilson was up to, he wandered into the clinic with cane in hand. Amused, he stood against a wall watching the oncologist for a few minutes.

"Hey. Let me know if you find my cane." He punctuated the air with the one he held. "And, do you have any dea how sexy you look right now?" he added, a mischevious glint in his blue eyes.

He wasn't feeling super great, but hadn't puked for more than 24 hours. The Demerol wasn't as effective as he'd like, but it was helping, as long as he didn't put too much weight and strain on the leg.

Wilson had been bolting the exam bed back down to the floor and he straightened when he heard House's voice. Giving the rachet in his hand a neat little twirl which spoke to a deftness of fingers that tended to keep the older doctor quite happy he grinned wickedly towards his lover.

"I have not seen your cane but I'll check under the couch later."

Sliding the rachet into his back pocket he danced over towards House. Shimmying low he wriggled gracefully back up along House's body, the wicked fiendishness growing until he pecked his lover's lips with his own.

"You just like the smell of dust and sandlewood...you weird, weird man."

House laughed and took an exaggerated sniff of the air. "Mmmm. Delicious. This cleaning spree going to detail the apartment too? Because, yeah. I'm really turned on right now." He grinned. fingers fanning Wilson's hair ot, then falling to his shoulders.

"Ah...no. It's your week to do the laundry House and you are sooo not getting out of it."

The older man did earn himself another kiss, this one lingering for a bit, before Wilson settled his hands on his lover's hips and smiled at him gently.

"Aziraphale suggested you call him, set up a time that was good for you for him to come up, or maybe go down to the shop and he'd... he'd help."

House tapped his cane on the floor. "My leg hurts?" he said, with a little bit too much question in his voice. He sighed, dramaticly. "Laundry is so hard to do standing on one leg."

It felt good to be able to snark at Wilson again. To feel good enough to snark at all.

He nodded and shifted his hips, moving into Wilson's touch. "Soon as I can tear myself away from the dust and sandlewood, I'll give him a call."

"Yes, because it takes all of 2 minutes to dump detergent and clothes into a washing machine." Wilson replied back without sympathy, though...it did feel good to be able to snark with the older man...and to hear House snark back.

Sliding his hands around those shifting hips, he leaned forward and brushed his lips gently against the side of House's neck.

"I have one more room to tear apart, clean and put back together...more dust, more sandlewood...and if perchance you're leg is not hurting...and you are not sick to your stomach...you might get to help me clean off in the shower, hmm?"

"No sign of nausea so far today," House said, almost proudly. He leaned his head back, exposing more of his neck to Wilson's warm mouth. He moaned, and his left hand caresses Wilson's back, eventually catching his finger in a belt loop.

Swaying a little in time to the music, Wilson smiled with obvious relief when he heard House say he hadn't been nauseaus all day but then he sobered and reached down to gently rub the bad leg.

"But the Demerol isn't cutting it is it?"

House's gaze turned up to the ceiling for a moment, and he bit his bottom lip until his leg relaxed under Wilson's skilled and gentle hand. Wilson knew what House could take as well as he did, knew the limitations and just the right amount of pressure to apply.

"There's a reason I was willing to take the risk with Vicodin that had nothing to do with waiting for it to kill me," he said quietly. He caught his breath in his throat. "If you're going to do that, you're not going to get that last room cleaned because I'm going to drag you back to the apartment so I can sit down and enjoy it."

Gently running his hand down along House's chest, Wilson leaned his forehead against his lover's shoulder for a minute but he stopped with the hand.

"I need to get that last room finished and we're good for another two months."

Resting there for a minute, he looked up into House's face. "Go see Aziraphale, Greg. He can help you. Please."

Wilson didn't want House just off the Vicodin because he had to be to live but then miserable with the pain and living an agonized existance that would eventually destroy them both. He was torn about going to the angel, not wanting to impose but...Phale had made the offers and if something could be done to truly help House...

"If you don't think you can get down to his shop...use my cell phone the number is in there."

[ooc: I need to scoot out and see some friends for a couple of hours so, House has a choice of going to the shop or calling. :) Wilson will find him either way]

House leaned against WIlson for just a moment. He felt comfortable there. And felt like a jerk for letting himself get so messed up.

"I think a walk will do me good (http://www.livejournal.com/community/fandomtownies/412976.html?thread=16782640#t16782640)," he murmured. "I could use the fresh ar."

[OOC: Have fun!]

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Clinic Hours - Thursday December 1st

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