Categories > TV > House > I, Who Have Nothing
Wednesday. He’d finally made it half-way through the first week. Wilson sat at his desk, reviewing the paperwork that never seemed to end. The clock on the wall read 11:30. Only a half hour before he had to go fetch lunch. His cell phone gave the familiar chime of a text message. He looked at the message and gave an annoyed grunt.
“Happy ‘hump’ day!” the childish text message exclaimed.
Wilson decided that he’d be the bigger man, and just leave the message at that. At 12:00 sharp, he stood outside House’s office door. He almost knocked, out of professional courtesy. He pushed that notion aside and stepped into the office.
“What’ll you have for lunch?”
House didn’t look up from his work. It was strange, watching House reading and signing documents. He only did this when Cuddy fought him tooth and nail, and held his personal possessions hostage. Finally, House looked up briefly.
“Something with protein,” he responded blankly.
And with that, he went back to work. Wilson was surprised and a little concerned. House working through lunch? Wilson shook his head and walked to the cafeteria alone.
Flashbacks hit him as he remembered how he had used his job numerous times to avoid his marital problems. Rarely was he on the receiving end of people avoiding him. Being ignored by a man he loved so deeply was difficult.
Wilson smirked when he found the protein bars among the other real food. He picked the grossest flavor he could find. Lemon. He also picked up a roast beef sandwich and a bag of plain potato chips. He sat the sandwich outside House’s office and came in with the protein bar. Wilson tossed the bar on the desk and began to leave the room.
“Is this your idea of some kind of joke?”
Wilson froze, but refused to turn around.
“Obviously you want to break the contract we made. I don’t consider a lemon protein bar lunch, Wilson.”
Wilson’s anxiety level was skyrocketing. Cracking under the pressure, he turned to face House.
“House, I-”
“Leave the sandwich on the desk. I’m going to work through lunch today.”
Wilson nodded in defeat. “How, how did you know?”
“When your body craves real protein, it can sense it. I’ve got work to do, Wilson,” House replied, brushing Wilson off.
Wilson placed the lunch on House’s desk, and slipped out of the room.
To put it lightly, Wilson was pissed when he got home. He felt used. God, was he that whipped? He slammed pots and pans around in the kitchen, not really affecting the status of dinner. House came home late, expecting to smell dinner, and see his Wilson in the kitchen with an apron on. He was disappointed to find his kitchen cluttered with dishes, but nothing was made. Hobbling to the living room, he found Wilson in an undershirt and boxers, brooding.
“Where’s dinner?”
“Piss off, House.”
“Take 2. Where’s my dinner?”
“I’m not your bitch. Order something yourself.”
House maneuvered around the coffee table and plopped down next to Wilson.
“Alright, what do you want for dinner?”
Wilson wanted to throttle House. Scream at him, slap him, anything to get him to understand his feeling of manipulation and frustration.
“Do you get pleasure from making me suffer?” he asked through clenched teeth.
House rolled his eyes. “Get off your high horse, Wilson! Not everything revolves around you.”
“That’s right, I’m just a pawn in your carefully crafted game!”
“If you can’t handle the boundaries, you know where the door is.”
“You’d let me go, just like that?” his temper rising.
“Wilson, if you can’t handle 4 days of discomfort, you’re not worth the investment.”
“So, you’re allowed to do whatever you want?”
“Not quite. I don’t get to fuck you until you moan my name,” House replied smugly.
“Is that it?”
“Yeah, like I’d keep you around just for the free blow jobs.”
“I actually give great blow jobs.”
“I know.”
A small grin was making its way to Wilson’s face. “What makes you stay?”
House shifted uncomfortably. “You know why I stay.”
“I need to hear you say it. It’ll help make the torture bearable.”
House sighed loudly, and turned to look at Wilson.
“I-,” his voice cut off.
He cleared his throat and tried again, quieter this time. “I love you, James. Don’t make me regret it.”
Wilson felt the tears form in his eyes, but was too shocked to brush them away. He never expected…
“Really?” he asked desperately.
House rolled his eyes for the second time that evening. “Don’t be so dense. You’re not the only one who gave up sex for 3 months.”
“Happy ‘hump’ day!” the childish text message exclaimed.
Wilson decided that he’d be the bigger man, and just leave the message at that. At 12:00 sharp, he stood outside House’s office door. He almost knocked, out of professional courtesy. He pushed that notion aside and stepped into the office.
“What’ll you have for lunch?”
House didn’t look up from his work. It was strange, watching House reading and signing documents. He only did this when Cuddy fought him tooth and nail, and held his personal possessions hostage. Finally, House looked up briefly.
“Something with protein,” he responded blankly.
And with that, he went back to work. Wilson was surprised and a little concerned. House working through lunch? Wilson shook his head and walked to the cafeteria alone.
Flashbacks hit him as he remembered how he had used his job numerous times to avoid his marital problems. Rarely was he on the receiving end of people avoiding him. Being ignored by a man he loved so deeply was difficult.
Wilson smirked when he found the protein bars among the other real food. He picked the grossest flavor he could find. Lemon. He also picked up a roast beef sandwich and a bag of plain potato chips. He sat the sandwich outside House’s office and came in with the protein bar. Wilson tossed the bar on the desk and began to leave the room.
“Is this your idea of some kind of joke?”
Wilson froze, but refused to turn around.
“Obviously you want to break the contract we made. I don’t consider a lemon protein bar lunch, Wilson.”
Wilson’s anxiety level was skyrocketing. Cracking under the pressure, he turned to face House.
“House, I-”
“Leave the sandwich on the desk. I’m going to work through lunch today.”
Wilson nodded in defeat. “How, how did you know?”
“When your body craves real protein, it can sense it. I’ve got work to do, Wilson,” House replied, brushing Wilson off.
Wilson placed the lunch on House’s desk, and slipped out of the room.
To put it lightly, Wilson was pissed when he got home. He felt used. God, was he that whipped? He slammed pots and pans around in the kitchen, not really affecting the status of dinner. House came home late, expecting to smell dinner, and see his Wilson in the kitchen with an apron on. He was disappointed to find his kitchen cluttered with dishes, but nothing was made. Hobbling to the living room, he found Wilson in an undershirt and boxers, brooding.
“Where’s dinner?”
“Piss off, House.”
“Take 2. Where’s my dinner?”
“I’m not your bitch. Order something yourself.”
House maneuvered around the coffee table and plopped down next to Wilson.
“Alright, what do you want for dinner?”
Wilson wanted to throttle House. Scream at him, slap him, anything to get him to understand his feeling of manipulation and frustration.
“Do you get pleasure from making me suffer?” he asked through clenched teeth.
House rolled his eyes. “Get off your high horse, Wilson! Not everything revolves around you.”
“That’s right, I’m just a pawn in your carefully crafted game!”
“If you can’t handle the boundaries, you know where the door is.”
“You’d let me go, just like that?” his temper rising.
“Wilson, if you can’t handle 4 days of discomfort, you’re not worth the investment.”
“So, you’re allowed to do whatever you want?”
“Not quite. I don’t get to fuck you until you moan my name,” House replied smugly.
“Is that it?”
“Yeah, like I’d keep you around just for the free blow jobs.”
“I actually give great blow jobs.”
“I know.”
A small grin was making its way to Wilson’s face. “What makes you stay?”
House shifted uncomfortably. “You know why I stay.”
“I need to hear you say it. It’ll help make the torture bearable.”
House sighed loudly, and turned to look at Wilson.
“I-,” his voice cut off.
He cleared his throat and tried again, quieter this time. “I love you, James. Don’t make me regret it.”
Wilson felt the tears form in his eyes, but was too shocked to brush them away. He never expected…
“Really?” he asked desperately.
House rolled his eyes for the second time that evening. “Don’t be so dense. You’re not the only one who gave up sex for 3 months.”
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