Chapter 24:

DING DONG – KNOCK KNOCK

House and Wilson stood at Cuddy's door waiting to be let in. It was Thanksgiving Day so they were there for their annual Thanksgiving Day Dinner with their friends. Wilson held a bottle of wine while House just held himself.

The weather had been cold and the meteorologist's predicted some snow tonight which didn't make either man happy but they held out hope that it wouldn't come.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" Cuddy greeted cheerily as she opened the door.

"Happy Thanksgiving Lisa," Wilson greeted in return before entering the house.

"Do you always open the door that way?" House asked curiously as he limped inside.

"Only on Thanksgiving. On Christmas I say 'Happy Fourth of July'" Cuddy quipped lightly, taking their coats and hanging them up before she ushered them into the living room.

House smiled appreciatively at her joke but didn't respond. Instead he settled for plopping loudly onto the couch. His thigh had started to throb its protest to the weather and being used earlier in the day, so House started to massage it in the hope to get ahead of the pain before it became too bad.

Wilson remained standing, fully intending on seeing if Cuddy or Lucas needed help in the kitchen or with setting the table. His own leg felt like one big throbbing limb but he wasn't about to let his host's know that. He'd had a busy week between his patient-load, House's patient-load, clinic duty, patient rounds and taking care of a very badly hurting House after work so he hadn't been able to rest the arthritic knee and ankle as much as he should.

He was about to say something when Cuddy beat him to it, "I think Lucas could use some help with the turkey and table, would you mind?" She asked knowing full well that Wilson wanted to help.

"Of course." He granted, slowly making his way to the kitchen.

Cuddy watched him go with a frown, "Is he okay?" She asked turning to House.

"He's fine, why?" House answered lightly, his hand still massaging his ruined thigh.

"He's limping," she said wanting to put more behind it but dismissing it instead, "are you okay? Wilson said your leg's been giving you trouble lately."

"Wilson's a gossiper." House answered not happy that Wilson had been talking with Cuddy about him at all.

"We weren't gossiping. He was explaining why he was working your clinic hours every day this week." Cuddy informed the diagnostician, scolding and disappointment in her voice. House looked up at her with confusion cleverly disguised as 'you're an idiot' in his eyes. "You didn't notice that I haven't been bugging you about your clinic duty?"

"I did, I just figured you were thankfully too busy to notice." House replied, the sound of uneven footfalls drawing his attention to his partner bringing out a stack of plates. He frowned when he noticed that Cuddy was right, Wilson was limping but he was trying to hide it.

"Well, I should go help them." She said, turning away from him and walking towards the kitchen.

House pulled out the amber vial and dumped two pills onto his palm. He noted with a frown that he was almost out and wondered if he could talk Wilson into filling his prescription again. Given that he'd just had it refilled a week ago, House doubted Wilson would do it but he hoped that knowing how bad his leg has been hurting the past week, the oncologist would cut him some slack.

Weeks like this one made him feel 70. He'd get up in agony, take a couple pills, go to work, do nothing but sit in his office or conference room with his leg up the entire day, have Wilson bring him lunch and handle his patients then go home, collapse on the couch, down a few drinks of Scotch and three more Vicodin then go to bed. The rational part of his mind knew that being in constant pain was draining on the body but the rest of him tried to argue that that didn't mean he should have been as exhausted as he always was by the end of the night.

Remembering the past week combined with Cuddy's admission helped something in his mind click. No wonder Wilson was limping, not only had he devoted his entire week to helping House out but he also had his own job to do which in and of itself is taxing on the oncologist.

House felt a pang of something akin to guilt pierce his heart. Oh, he knew that it wasn't his fault Wilson always put everyone else's needs before his own but he still felt bad that Cuddy had noticed that Wilson was in pain before he did.

Of course she did! She's not stuck in agony 24/7! A self-centered voice akin to his own shouted in his head.

Or she isn't too caught up in her own problems to notice other peoples' pain. A voice akin to Wilson's argued.

Wilson walked out of the kitchen once again this time carrying silverware and napkins. He looked in the living room to check on House only to find that the older man was starting to get up. "Where are you going?" He asked approaching his friend with his hands on his hips.

"I'm going to help." House answered, shocking Wilson.

"No," the oncologist argued, slightly shifting his weight from even to his left, "we've got everything under control. You sit and rest your leg, we're fine."

"You're not." House countered using his cane to poke Wilson's knee.

Wilson gasped as throbbing, burning pain shot through his leg with the poke. Instinctively he raised his leg a little off the ground, futilely hoping that giving it a rest from bearing weight would help ease the pain. "What was that for?" He asked half accusingly.

"Proved my point." House shrugged. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurting?"

"Because it wouldn't have made a difference." Wilson answered gruffly. House cocked his head at Wilson so he explained further yet using the simplest words he could, "Your pain trumps mine."

House stared at his friend slack-jawed. There weren't many things that could shock him into silence but sine that statement was the last thing he expected, it did and allowed its announcer to heavily limp away to continue helping.

How could Wilson believe that? It was no where near true. Sure, House's pain was more extreme and constant but that did not mean in any way that his pain was less important. Hell, if anything it meant that his was more important since House dealt with his pain daily. Nothing anybody did would make the pain go away so he got used to it. Wilson wasn't supposed to be in pain, it's just not the way life is supposed to be.

"House." Cuddy's voice called as a soft hand was laid on his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Dinner's ready. Wilson's grabbing a heating pad and spare chair for you."

House clenched his jaw and said nothing. He knew that anything he said would be taken in the wrong context and he truly did just want to enjoy the day with his friends. He stiffly stood up and walked into the dining room while leaning heavily on his cane.

The diagnostician cursed his broken body as he watched Wilson limp almost as heavily into the room with a heating pad and a chair. He wished he could take care of his friend today and/or tonight, Wilson needed a night or two off his feet but House really didn't think he'd be much use until the weather warmed up and by then Wilson wouldn't need help.

Wilson stood close by House as the scruffy doctor lowered himself onto a chair and then elevated his leg onto another one. Almost every fiber of his being was screaming to help his friend but he knew House wouldn't accept the help even if it was needed. He plugged in the heating pad then handed it to his lover before sitting in a chair to House's left.

The meal passed amicably with conversational chatter filling in the silence when they weren't busy putting food in their mouths. Once finished, Wilson and Cuddy immediately got up and started clearing the dishes away. Lucas sat patiently while he waited for House to decide if he wanted to get up and go to the couch or stay where he was. Rachel offered a squeal as Wilson passed her then climbed out of her high chair and ran off to the play room.

House couldn't help but laugh at the child's fascination with his lover. Though he'd never admit it, it was kind of cute.

He and Lucas sat around chatting while they waited for Wilson and Cuddy to finish then they all went in to the living room. House sprawled out on the couch while Wilson sat down where House's feet ended. Cuddy and Lucas sat across from them in armchairs, each holding a glass of wine and looking very relaxed.

Wilson let out a grateful breath when he sat down on the couch. If he was lucky he wouldn't have to get up for a long time. After checking his watch however, that dream died. It was almost nine o'clock and he'd promised House they'd leave by no later than nine-thirty.

Cuddy, House and Lucas sat around sipping on their drinks while Wilson helped keep the conversation going. Time passed quickly and Wilson kept sneaking glances at his friend, always pleased when he found the older man's face relaxed and seemingly pain free. The oncologist suspected that the alcohol combined with Vicodin had something to do with that but he wasn't going to complain so long as House wasn't in extreme pain.

At nine-thirty, Wilson and House excused themselves politely from their hosts' home. House had had enough to drink that he needed Wilson's help getting out to the car and from the car to the loft.

Wilson gritted his teeth and helped get his friend into bed. His leg hadn't stopped its painful throb and each step renewed the pain with a vengeance. He was glad that House seemed in a pleasant near-drunk daze and therefore didn't noticed the tears of pain that trickled out of his eyes as he hobbled around the loft getting everything House needed to fall asleep pain free.

Once House was settled, Wilson grabbed a couple bags of frozen vegetables, a beer and Aleve then camped out on the couch watching a James Bond marathon. He placed the vegetable bags on top of his ankle and knee, draped a blanket over him then swallowed two Aleve with two drinks of beer.

He felt his eyelids becoming droopy but really didn't want to move from his comfortable position on the couch. The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was hearing Roger Moore say, "Bond, James Bond."

House woke the net morning relatively pain free. Sure, the pain was still there but it was no where near as bad as it had been all week for which he was extremely grateful; as was his libido. He stretched his arm out and grabbed his morning Vicodin pill before rolling onto his left side to snuggle with Wilson.

He stared blankly at the empty spot before him for a minute until it dawned on him that Wilson hadn't slept in the bed last night. Was he mad at House or did he just get up early enough to make the bed and start breakfast?

The diagnostician sniffed the air and was disappointed to find that Wilson was not making breakfast. He got up out of bed, grimacing slightly at the throbbing in his head while he stumbled into the bathroom to take care of business.

Feeling more steady on his feet, House came out of the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen to start coffee. He could tell he had a slight hangover and hoped that caffeine would help clear the fog of said hangover so he could think clearly while at work.

The diagnostician stopped dead when he saw Wilson sleeping awkwardly on the couch. He shook his head in affection at the sight before he continued into the kitchen to start the coffee knowing that the scent would wake his friend up.

A few minutes later House was pouring a cup of coffee for himself when he heard a groan from the couch. He winced in sympathy when the groan emitted tones of pain in it but he didn't know exactly what hurt his friend. He poured another cup then limped over to the couch, sitting down on the coffee table to observe his friend.

Wilson lay stretched out on the couch, his head supported curvedly by a throw pillow while a couple more elevated his right leg. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were still shut but his facial expression echoed the pain House had heard in the groan. One hand gently massaged the right thigh while the other tried to sneak around to his neck and back.

The blanket that had previously been covering the oncologist had slipped off some time during the night and now lay on the floor beside the couch. Two bags of vegetables lay on the coffee table, warm and no doubt only good to serve as ice packs from here on out; no doubt Wilson had used them to ice his hurting joints.

"Wilson." House called to his groggy friend.

Wilson winced at the volume. His entire body was one throbbing entity and his head was no exception.

"Time to get up." House continued still at the same volume as before.

"House," Wilson croaked, "either shut up or go away."

House lowered his voice, "Head hurt huh?" He asked setting the cup of coffee he'd brought for Wilson on the coffee table before he helped ease his friend to sitting up.

Wilson couldn't stop the groan that escaped his mouth as his leg continued to throb mercilessly while his neck and back twinged painfully with the movement. He dropped his head into his hands, "Among other things."

Blue eyes softened as they watched with sympathy the pain the other man was in. "You should stay home and rest."

That got Wilson's attention. His head snapped up then he grimaced when his sore neck reminded him not to do that any time today. He stared at House a while before asking, "Are you okay? Is your leg okay?"

"I'm fine, my leg's fine. It's you who's not." House answered grumpily. "Maybe sleeping on the couch hadn't been your best idea."

"Yeah," Wilson answered almost as grumpy, "I'm gathering that." He hissed as he tried to stretch out his back but continued his ministrations relentlessly. "I appreciate the concern but I have to go to work."

"No you don't. Your department can live with out its star oncologist for the day and you need the rest. You've been running yourself ragged for the past eight days and your body is letting you know how bad an idea that was." House argued softly but firmly.

Without waiting for an answer, House flipped open his phone and called Cuddy.

"What House?" She demanded though she didn't sound annoyed.

"Wilson and I won't be coming in today." He answered simply with a sigh.

"Why not?"

"He's hurting and I need to take care of him."

"I'm fairly certain he can take care of himself."

"Maybe but I'd rather keep him off his feet as much as possible today which means I'd have to be here to take care of him."

"Meaning you'd wait on him hand and foot for a day, make yourself hurt more and be useless the next day." Cuddy chuckled.

"I won't be useless tomorrow." House objected managing to sound offended.

Cuddy sighed, "How bad is he hurting really?"

"Why are you going to make him come in anyways?" House challenged.

"Judging by that answer he's not doing that bad so, yes."

"No, Cuddy, he really is hurting." House automatically replied surprising both him and Wilson by the amount of pleading in his voice. House stood up and limped into the kitchen. He knew that wouldn't really help to keep Wilson from hearing what he was about to say but it made him feel better. "He's pushed himself past the point where his middle aged body can tolerate it. From the looks of it, his leg is still painful, his back and neck are strained and he has a migraine."

"Fine but you both better be here on Monday. A four day weekend should be long enough for both of you to feel better."

"Great, thanks." He hung up quickly before she could make any more amendments or try to talk him into coming in anyways.

Wilson sat listening to House's conversation with Cuddy in silence. He was surprised that House was pushing so hard to get him a day off. He really would be fine once he started moving more and loosening stiff muscles, there wasn't a need for him to stay home. He guessed that House was hurting more than he wanted to admit and projected it onto Wilson but then that didn't explain the pleading note in the older man's voice when he was practically begging Cuddy to let Wilson stay home; House hadn't even mentioned himself at that point in time, he really just wanted Wilson to be able to relax and rest.

While he was grateful that House had argued so hard to get him a four day weekend, Wilson really didn't want it. It only meant that he'd have even MORE work to do when he arrived back at work on Monday. He'd spend the entire thing dreading it and the Monday to come instead of enjoying it and relaxing.

"Thanks." He said when House came back to the living room and sat down on the coffee table.

House redirected his glance but nodded. "Come on. Let's get you in bed and feeling better. I have plans for us for the weekend but they need you feeling 100% for that to happen."

Wilson rolled his eyes playfully, "Of course, I knew you weren't trying to get me to stay home for my sake."

House gave a quick laugh before becoming serious and sincere. He scooted forward on the coffee table and cupped Wilson's face in his hands. "I really do want you to feel better."

Wilson gave an assuring blink and smile, "I know. Now, what was that I heard about waiting on me hand and foot?"

"Cheeky gimp." House answered with a roll of his eyes. He stood up and waited for Wilson to follow suit.

Wilson smiled widely. Maybe this will be a great weekend after all!

~fin~

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