House MD Fanfiction

The Best Laid Plans

Hilson, smut, 2,489 words
By: Orithain, Rina9294

"This is pathetic." Dr. James Wilson sat on the porch of a beach house in Carmel, a glass of fine wine in his hand, the sun going down on the ocean mere yards away, his feet up on the railing, and wished he were anywhere but here.

It had started out as a great plan. House had browbeaten Cuddy into giving them both time off for the holidays; he’d found this place for rent and had booked it; they’d managed to get first-class seats for the trip out; and then two days ago it had fallen apart.

Wilson sighed and took a drink, his brown eyes narrowing as the sun dipped lower, the beams now directly in his eyes. It always fell apart in the end, which was what had led to his last marriage, short-lived though it had been. "I really need to get it through my head that we’re better as friends than anything else," he murmured.

As it was, here he sat in California while the object of his reminiscing was back in New Jersey more than likely watching soap opera re-runs or browbeating his staff. Merry Christmas indeed.

***

Tired, in pain after the long flight, and even more irritable than usual, Gregory House pushed his limping way through the airport crowds toward the line of taxis. He cried out in pain when an unsupervised child ran straight into him, jarring his bad leg and nearly causing him to fall to the ground. When the mother finally noticed that her precious darling was missing and started yapping at him, he laced into her with a few brutal statistics about death and kidnapping statistics of unsupervised children, making her pale and clutch the pre-teen to her. When he mentioned his current pain and mused on the possibility of suing her, she disappeared rapidly, leaving him without a target to vent on.

"Another disappearance," he murmured under his breath, regaining his balance and continuing toward the front cab, making shameless use of his cane to clear his path. That seemed to be the theme of this holiday season. By the time he’d managed to extricate himself from everything that seemed to be conspiring to keep in him in new Jersey, Wilson had vanished. Aggrieved, House had decided that it was pointless to waste the house they’d rented to spend their vacation in, and he’d gotten on a plane to Carmel. Only now that he was here, he wasn’t sure why he’d bothered.

When the taxi dropped him off at the address he’d been given, House let himself in and just dropped his bags at the door before limping into the living room to collapse into a comfortable chair.

Hearing a noise, Wilson walked out of the kitchen, holding a piece of pizza and his refilled glass of wine. He blinked, then frowned. "Greg, what are you doing here?"

House gaped at him. "Jim? Where the hell did you go? I wasted half a day trying to find you once I got free again."

"Where did I go?" Wilson asked, finally having the presence of mind to set his food and drink down before he dropped them. "I was under the assumption that you didn’t care where I went—as was half the hospital."

"Where on earth would you get that idea?" House stared at him again. So he’d been a little irritable; that was because of their plans being messed up, not anything Wilson had done.

"Oh, the ‘I’d rather fly to Manila with a planeload of syphilis-infected pigs than go anywhere with you’ might have given me that idea."

House still looked bewildered. "I always say things like that when the Vicodan’s wearing off. Why on earth would you start listening to me now?"

Wilson looked down at the counter and picked up his glass, draining the wine. "Probably because it hurt this time."

"Oh." House had to look away from the familiar gaze. "I... didn’t think." Anyone else who knew him would probably have fainted at that near apology from Dr. Gregory House. "But..." He shrugged slightly. "I’m not going to change, Jim."