A Friend and A Brother Part 4

[moose_mcmoose]

Oy! Oy! Saveloy! (wow that was a very British thing to say)....

Moving on....I didz part 4. I admit this part is more a ficlet than a drabble. Somewhere around 900 words so I will change the summary somewhat to fit it in. Still following the same line though.

Title: A Friend and A Brother (Part 4)
Characters: House/Wilson
Rating: Up to R now. Bad language :O
Summary: A series of connected drabbles/ficlets focusing on Wilson and House as the funeral of Danny Wilson takes place. Hopefully I'll post a one every couple of days. Dunno where I am going with it but hopefully it'll go somewhere good :)
This one is Wilson's POV only

Contrary to the famous quotation, Wilson always expected the Spanish Inquisition. Usually it would come in the form of a limping, rude, cantankerous pain in the ass and this time was no different.

 

He watched on as his mother climbed into her cab, casting out a half-hearted wave goodbye as she closed the car door.

 

The sense of relief at his mother's departure was quickly offset by a sense of dread. No doubt House would be asking questions about the weirdly unemotional display of family unity on show at the funeral.

 

Great.

 

He rubbed his weary face aggressively with his hands. He could NOT be bothered with this. Not now. But he had little choice. He prepared himself for a litany of questions and paced back through into the living room.

 

House handed over a fresh mug of coffee.

 

He grabbed a tissue and placed the mug on top, keen to avoid leaving water rings on the clean table.

 

A voice echoing from the kitchen hit Wilson's ears. “So... it was nice to see your mom.” He gathered from the intonation in the voice that this statement was open for interpretation.

 

Oh god. Here we go.

 

A gulp of sweet, hot coffee passed his lips.

 

Don't say anything. Pretend you didn't hear.

 

“Your silence is telling me everything Wilson.” House hobbled over and took a seat.

 

Damned if you do, damned if you don't. “I didn't hear you. What did you say?”

 

House smiled. “Sure you didn't. Too busy talking inwardly. Telling yourself to pretend you didn't hear me.”

 

How does he do that? With a weak shake of the head, he took another sip of coffee, masking his mouth as he muttered. “Something like that.”

 

House dropped his cane onto the floor. “Are you okay? For someone who has just lost a brother and is a known wuss you seem remarkably impassive.”

 

No. “Yeah. I'm fine.” His well-worn phrase was a reflex that would normally convince most but not House. He knew that yet he still found himself saying it regardless.

 

“Knock it off Wilson. You're not fooling anyone, especially me. I'm not an idiot. You cry at City of Angels yet you don't cry at your own brother's funeral. Nice.” House pointed an accusatory finger. "I know what you were thinking."

 

“Is that why you wanted to drive? You thought I would wrap us round a pole or something.” He launched off the couch in anger, hands on hips, brows drawn downwards in the middle.

 

“Would you have wrapped us around a pole?”

 

Maybe. “What? No!” I don't know. “God no.” He hid his face in his sweating palms.

 

“The lady doth protest too much.”

 

“I protest because you're wrong. I can't believe you would think that.” Well I can but I was hoping it wasn't that obvious.

 

He knew he could contain this. He could backtrack, throw House off the scent.

 

But he wanted to scream.

 

Scream in House's face that this fucking hurt, that it had always fucking hurt, that he felt like shit, that he would happily jump in the grave in place of his brother because at least then it would nobodies fault.

 

But no matter how hard he tried his external speech and internal thoughts were never in sync. It was always one pitted against the other.

 

Outwardly angry, he strolled into the kitchen and grabbed a pack of mince, two tomatoes and an onion from the refrigerator and slammed then onto the chopping board.

 

“Wilson, what the hell are you doing?”

 

The answer came through gritted teeth. “Making dinner.” He whisked a knife out of the stand and started violently slicing the tomatoes to a pulp.

 

With cautious urgency, House limped towards Wilson who was still belligerently taking the knife to the board. “Put the knife down.” House edged closer.

 

Calmly, he placed the knife down on the worktop before putting on his well-honed cool voice. “What do you want?”

 

“I want you to put the damn knife away. You could kill someone with that you know.” House moved to Wilson's side, slid the knife from the worktop and dropped it back into the stand.

 

“God I've ruined the tomatoes.” A change of tact would hopefully yield a change of subject. He hoped so anyway. Although, he'd be surprised if House fell for such a weak ploy.

 

“And you forgot the garlic.”

 

He chuckled. He did forget the garlic.

 

House pressed on. “So you going to talk to me about your mom or are we going to tip toe around it all night. I'm not very good on my feet as you know.”

 

The sliver of hope had dissipated. House really wasn't going to let this lie. “It's nothing okay. Just...nothing.”

 

“It sure as hell didn't look like nothing. You guys barely spoke to each other.”

 

The bubbling sensation in his chest had returned with vengeance. He took deep breaths, each one making the pounding in his ears more pronounced. “It's. Nothing. Okay. Just drop it House.”

 

“This is rich. You ram into my brain that I should open up more when you-”

 

House's words were drowned out by the mental fog that swirled in his head. His knuckles whitened as his grip on the chopping board became increasingly severe. Then he cracked. “IT'S NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS!”

 

The chopping board was sent to the floor with force, while the tomatoes cascaded downwards creating a red mulch on the pristine cream lino.

 

He sought the solace of his bedroom, leaving House frozen in the kitchen.

 

Part 3

Comments

[lorib12.livejournal.com]

That was incredibly in character for Wilson. He always tell's House to turn to him, to talk to him but in reality Wilson has never been one to open up to House in return. The internal thoughts were amazing and so believable. Very interested to see what happens next. Thanks so much for sharing :)

[moose-mcmoose.livejournal.com]

"That was incredibly in character for Wilson."

Yay! The best compliment possible. Although any other ones are appreciated muchly. :D

Cheers for reading. :)

[christikat.livejournal.com]

"But no matter how hard he tried his external speech and internal thoughts were never in sync. It was always one pitted against the other." Especially this phrase was very touching. I feel bad for Wilson and his struggle and I do hope that he opens up to House and that they find a way to work things out. Thank you for sharing!

[moose-mcmoose.livejournal.com]

It took me ages to write that line. I was just staring at the screen trying to write a line that wasn't too lame or too cliché. I'm glad the sore eyes I gained were worth it.

Thank you for reading. :D

[hibernia1.livejournal.com]

Oh, VERY well done. Your House and Wilson are so in character, and I love this chapter. Thanks so much for sharing!

[moose-mcmoose.livejournal.com]

Huzzah more good IC comments. Hoards of win.

Glad you liked it and thank you for reading and commenting :D