Dangers of Dismissing
Dec. 26th, 2009 12:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moose_mcmooseAuthor: moose_mcmoose
Prompt: 19. Wilson dismisses the early symptoms of a heart attack because he thinks it's just indigestion from something he ate at the PPTH Christmas party.
Pairing: House/Wilson
Category: sick!Wilson, food-stealing!House, mention of chicken wings and salad.
Rating/Warnings: R (strong language in parts). Depending on your status as an optimist or as a pessimist, there could be some character death going on here.
Words: 1895
Summary: It's on the prompt
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be as the world conspires against me.
Beta: My dear friend PMB! Thank you PMB! And my uncle...who described the sensation of having a heart attack from past experience.
Wilson was making his second round at the buffet table, picking his way through the platters of delicate looking food. A couple of crab cakes, a few mushroom vol-au-vents and a good handful of salad made their way onto Wilson's plate as House sat a few tables away, grunting about the distinct lack of chicken wings and BBQ sauce.
Before he headed back, he slipped a clean fork from the holder at the end of the long table and tucked it onto the side of his plate. He didn't really understand why there were forks laid out or why he had picked one up. The whole buffet was made out of finger food anyway.
House glared at Wilson's food disapprovingly as the younger man took his seat.
“I thought you hated seafood.”
“I don't hate seafood. I just don't eat a lot of it.” Wilson tossed his fork aside and picked up one of his miniature crab cakes.
“So why are you eating it now?” House poked a finger into the salad.
“Hey.” Wilson batted House's hand away. The salad was his favourite part. “I'm eating it because it's there and it's free. Might as well take advantage.” Wilson bit a good chunk from the crab cake before setting it back down on the plate and wiping his lips. “Why aren't you eating anything?”
“I don't see the point eating things that are smaller than my fingernails. I need my chicken wings.” House stomped his cane on the wooden floor.
“Did you ask Cuddy for chicken wings?” Wilson stuffed a leaf of salad into his mouth.
“No.”
“Then how do you expect her to have chicken wings?”
House sighed. “Who the hell has a buffet without chicken wings? It's like having a wedding without a cake or a Porsche without a really bad haircut. You can't have one without the other.” House nabbed a leaf from Wilson's salad.
Wilson grumbled before he pulled his plate closer and enveloped it within his right arm in a last-ditch attempt to save his vol-au-vents from House's grubby fingers. “I thought you said you weren't going to eat anything.”
“I never said that. I said I wouldn't eat anything smaller than my fingernail. That leaf was bigger than my thumb.”
Wilson rolled his eyes. “Why don't you go up there and get some salad then?” He could seeing House eyeing up his food for another attempted kidnapping.
“I would but...” House pointed towards his leg then towards the long buffet table and grimaced, hoping to convey the distance and his inability to cover that distance with his bum leg.
Wilson relented and grabbed a napkin. He grasped a small handful of salad and dumped it on the napkin before he handed the discarded fork over to House. “There you go.”
“I need dressing.”
"They don't have any dressing.”
“What is the point in having salad on offer without dressing?” House grimly chewed on a floppy piece of salad.
“You know what, next year for the Christmas party I'll make sure Cuddy appoints you as the chief of condiments. I mean what would we do if next year there was no ranch dressing or mayo or God forbid, ketchup.” Wilson grumpily swallowed a crab cake whole.
“I can see why you don't eat seafood often. The crab cakes are making you crabby. Remember you are what you eat Wilson.” House pointed a motherly index finger in Wilson's direction who responded in gulping down a whole vol-au-vent.
Wilson cleaned the rest of his plate in record time. A little too fast judging by the pain that had made itself present in his chest. He was preparing to make a trip to the bathroom for a glass of water to quell the apparent indigestion before House stopped him with butt on his cane.
“You can't seriously be going back for more.” House eyed him incredulously.
“What? I'm hardly eating piles of food here.”
“That little paunch hidden in your shirt says otherwise.”
Wilson poked at his stomach. “It's not a paunch. It's a...it's a...”
“A... paunch.”
“It's not a paunch. I just put on weight easier than I used to. It's called getting old.” Wilson fiddled with the front of his shirt, his anxiety getting the better of him. “Besides you've got man boobs going on there.”
House looked down, flattening his shirt against his chest. “Oh come on they're not that bad.”
“Still a pair of boobs.”
House pointed. “Still a paunch.”
Wilson waved a dismissive hand, ending his part in the childish name calling game. “I wasn't even gonna go to the buffet. I was going to the bathroom.” He grabbed his cellphone from the table and slipped it into his pocket. “I think you were right about the seafood.” Wilson rubbed his stomach before exhaling a heavy breath.
“What?”
“I probably shouldn't have ate those crab cakes.” Another heavy exhalation followed another rub of the abdomen, this time a little further up his torso. He felt a sudden wave of nausea as he tried to inhale another breath, not strong enough to make him sick but enough to make him feel unbalanced. He felt the strong grip from House's hand on his arm.
“Wilson, are you okay?”
Wilson swallowed and nodded. “I'm fine.”
“Really? Because you look like hell.”
Wilson opened his eyes to find that House was standing in front of him, his face a mask of concern. “I'm fine. Just indigestion.” At least he thought it was indigestion. “I'm just gonna go to the bathroom.”
“I'm coming with you.”
“What? No. You just stay here and make the waiter's life a living hell.” Wilson began strolling away from the table. “I'll get a glass of water or something.” He stifled a gag as the nausea hit once again. “And possibly throw up.”
House silently grabbed Wilson's arm and dragged him towards the bathroom. He pushed the door open with the butt of his cane, allowing Wilson to race into an empty cubicle. It only took moments for the unpleasant sound of retching followed by the splash of vomit hitting the water. House grimaced as he stalked towards the cubicle and found Wilson clinging on to the bowl, his shoulders hunched and trembling.
“See this is why you don't eat seafood.”
Wilson so desperately wanted to smack House in the mouth and tell him to shut the hell up or at least say something constructive, but his body continued its assault on itself.
The pain in his chest was almost unbearable. A sickly, throb constantly pulsating under his ribcage. House couldn't see his face twisted and curled in pain. Wilson didn't have the energy to turn around and show him.
Wilson grasped at his sternum as a bolt of pain shot through his left arm. He coughed and spluttered, bringing up another collection from the depths of his stomach and projecting them into the toilet bowl.
He went to take another breath but his lungs wouldn't allow it. His chest constricted as if it was being crushed between two fists, squeezing every last molecule of oxygen from his body and out into the open air.
This wasn't fucking indigestion. This was a fucking heart attack. He was forty years old and he was having a fucking heart attack.
“Wilson?” House waited for an acknowledgment from the man stooping over the toilet.
Good God, he was light headed. Everything around him was amalgamating into a pale, fuzzy blur. He could feel himself slouching to the side ready to topple clumsily onto the floor. Weakly, he reached out to grab the toilet in order to keep himself up right.
“Wilson?” House saw Wilson sway to the side, his hand pulled to his chest as the other shot out for grip. He dropped his cane to floor before reaching into the cubicle and grabbing Wilson by the shoulders. “Indigestion my ass.” He pooled his energy to pull Wilson from the cubicle an prop him up against the wall between two of the shabby looking cubicle doors.
“Wilson?” House observed Wilson's unfocused eyes glance at him for a second before veering off to the right.
Nausea, vomiting, upper abdominal and chest pain, and now Wilson was clammy. He watched a bead of sweat trickle from the side of Wilson's forehead, past his ear and onto his shirt. In any normal situation House would use this as a chance to berate Wilson for being an idiot, for being a typical idiot doctor and dismissing symptoms. A normal situation this was not.
A quiet groan escaped Wilson's lips.
“Wilson you're having a heart attack.” He loosened the collar on the Wilson's shirt. “You need to stay with me. Don't close your eyes. You hear me?”
Wilson groaned again, not really sure what he was groaning for. He could see House talking but he heard nothing; his heart beat bursting in his ears blocked out any other noises in the room. He saw House turn and scream something, presumably to somebody who had entered the bathroom.
Then there was something warm, or cold. He wasn't sure. But whatever it was, it was overwhelming his senses like a blinding first hit of some mind-altering drug. Everything felt loose, relaxed, even comfortable.
He stopped straining for breaths and grimacing in pain.
He was floating on air. He was wrapped in cooling silk.
House was still shouting something but Wilson didn't register what he couldn't hear.
His head lolled back onto the cubicle wall, eyes fluttering towards the sky, focusing fleetingly on the cracked ceiling tile above his head.
*******************************
It's strange, the things you notice when everything around you slows down.
The smell of disinfectant and old bleach on the hard, cool floor.
The yellowing spots on the floor near the urinals where distracted doctors and nurses had missed their marks.
The feel of hardened and callused skin on the side of your face.
The silent shouting from the open mouthed face in front of you.
The sensation of blood pumping in your ears subsiding and relenting with every hitched breath until it's nothing but an intermittent, distant hum.
The silence.
********************************
They should probably fix that was the last mundane thought that slid through his increasingly foggy mind before the gleaming shine of the hospital bathroom dulled into darkness.
*************************************
There was noise. A fizz. A crackle. Choppy bursts of sound buzzing like an old wireless radio.
“Com...on...Wil...n.”
Wilson was vaguely aware of the sound of a monotonous beep of a heartbeat echoing in his ears amongst the the spliced shouts and cold waves of movement around his body.
Hands on his chest, pricks in his arms, the aggressive pushing of oxygen in his chest. All to get his heart back to what it should be doing instead of the sporadic beating that it was doing.
He couldn't do it. That heavy, almost leaden feeling on his chest was too much to bear.
He was sure he heard House scream his name. A cracked, gravelly, hoarse voice filled the OR.
Then the beeping stopped.
************************************************
A/n I swear that this originally had a happy ending but it just jarred when I read it back. Although, I might use it again for a fic with a much less serious illness. But as I said, depending on your preference, Wilson might still be alive. I'd like to think so.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 26/12/2009 12:53 pm (UTC)I think I agree - it would have been sorta weird with a happy ending. I really liked how you made it abstract and all from Wilson's POV.
no subject
Date: 26/12/2009 01:32 pm (UTC)Yeah the happy ending just didn't gel. It felt a bit contrived and it's not like people have heart attacks and then wake up and go 'hey i'm fine, now let's get some potato chips.'
"...I really liked how you made it abstract and all from Wilson's POV..." I'm so glad you liked that bit. I nearly cut it out because I thought it was a little too weird. But then I remembered the guy is having a heart attack, he's getting no oxygen, things are going to be weird and abstract.
And btw to get a good review from you is beyond fantastic. XD
no subject
Date: 26/12/2009 02:24 pm (UTC)I'm glad you left that in, in that case. Because it was very illustrative.
And btw - you deserve the good review. :)
no subject
Date: 26/12/2009 01:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 26/12/2009 01:34 pm (UTC)Cheers for reading and commenting. You're too kind.
no subject
Date: 26/12/2009 01:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 26/12/2009 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 26/12/2009 01:34 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed it and thanks for reading and commenting XD
no subject
Date: 26/12/2009 01:58 pm (UTC)I didn't expect him to die, but I liked the story. Sometimes its good to have an unexpected ending :)
no subject
Date: 26/12/2009 10:49 pm (UTC)Cheers for reading and commenting.
no subject
Date: 26/12/2009 05:15 pm (UTC)Oh, I vote for him being alive. :)
no subject
Date: 26/12/2009 10:53 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed. Thanks for reading and commenting XD Much appreciated
no subject
Date: 26/12/2009 09:02 pm (UTC)Thanks a lot for sharing. :)
no subject
Date: 26/12/2009 10:55 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed and thanks for reading and commenting XD
no subject
Date: 27/12/2009 04:59 am (UTC)My interpretation of the ending: Dead!Wilson, only because I know you will resurrect him and torture him some more. Right? Pretty please?
Anyway, all I'm trying to say is your story is very well written and was a pleasure to read.
no subject
Date: 27/12/2009 11:53 am (UTC)Of course he shall be resurrected and abused, tortured and rubbed out. Fun times ahead.
Cheers for reading and commenting XD
no subject
Date: 28/12/2009 09:05 pm (UTC)I loved his POV taking us through the random noises going on around him and how we were right there with him when he was being pulled in and out of consciousness.
And the final line "Then the beating stopped" was just brilliant! I thought it was the perfect conclusion because it took away all of his pain in a v. comprehensible way. Even though he died, I felt that there was almost a relief, like a last breath here.
no subject
Date: 28/12/2009 09:57 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked the ending. I re-wrote about six times because I couldn't find the right line. Eventually I just wrote that and left it, thinking if I stop fiddling with it it might just work.
Cheers for reading and for commenting of course XD
no subject
Date: 27/12/2009 07:53 pm (UTC)I really liked this, it was a nice read :)
no subject
Date: 28/12/2009 01:49 pm (UTC)Cheers for reading and commenting XD
no subject
Date: 27/12/2009 09:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/12/2009 01:52 pm (UTC)Cheers for reading and for the kind comments XD
no subject
Date: 28/12/2009 12:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/12/2009 01:56 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading and commenting. Much appreciated XD
no subject
Date: 28/12/2009 10:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/12/2009 05:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/12/2009 02:01 pm (UTC)(Your icon makes me 'aw' then :-( then 'aw' again)
Cheers for reading and commenting. XD
no subject
Date: 28/12/2009 06:56 pm (UTC)It is a great icon isn't it?
no subject
Date: 28/12/2009 09:52 pm (UTC)Cheers for reading and commenting XD
no subject
Date: 30/12/2009 08:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 30/12/2009 08:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 30/12/2009 10:23 am (UTC)It seems Dead Wilson has won over the overwhelmingly majority. So dead he shall remain.
Cheers for reading and commenting XD
*SNIFF*
Date: 03/01/2010 08:29 am (UTC)Re: *SNIFF*
Date: 03/01/2010 10:28 am (UTC)Cheers for reading and commenting XD