black_cigarette (black_cigarette) wrote,
black_cigarette
black_cigarette

Aftershocks 45.2: Free at Last

TITLE: Aftershocks: A Story in Shattered Pieces
SUMMARY: Sometimes surprises are welcome.
CHARACTERS: Wilson, House
RATING:
R for language and themes (gen fic).
WARNINGS: Details the aftermath of events in Bad Company, a rough, violent story. Aftermath isn't always pretty; may distress some readers. Adult themes and adult language.
SPOILERS: No.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Never will.
NOTES: The pieces of this shattered story are numbered. The first number signifies the number of days that have elapsed since the original event in Bad Company; the second number signifies when the fic occurs during that day.


Free at Last


The pot is full of fresh coffee, almost as if House has been expecting him.

The coffee can't be for House's team; they're nowhere to be seen. Wilson doesn't ask where they are, because he doesn't care. He pours a big mug and settles into House's Eames chair with a heavy groan. The coffee's good, but it's hard to enjoy when his back and his collarbone are throbbing harder with each minute that passes.

He really will have to try choking down one of House's Vicodin, if this keeps up.

House turns a grim face toward him. "You shouldn't have turned off your pager," he says.

"You knew 'ere I was."

"Sandoval didn't. He called me, looking for you," says House. "He got the films of your jaw."

"And?" Wilson's stomach lurches. How had he forgotten about that? He sets the coffee between his knees, bracing himself.

"I was wondering whether to tell you. I kinda liked this new improved version." House does a perfectly obnoxious TV announcer voice: "Wired Wilson! Now only half as annoying!"  He's smiling, the jerk. 

"Housh!"

"Ditch the elastics."

"Sand'val said that?"

"Am I not allowed to paraphrase? He also said to take a pill, 'cause it's gonna hurt like a bitch. Paraphrasing again, but ..."
 
House holds out a little pair of gleaming silver nippers. He's been planning this, apparently.

Wilson didn't know he could move this fast while in this kind of pain. He's out of the chair with hardly a second thought, almost spilling the coffee as he thrusts it into House's hand and grabs the nippers instead. There's a mirror in the mens' room, and he can't get there fast enough.

The last thing he hears on his mad, painful dash out the door is House's low chuckle behind him.

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