rivers_bend

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DJINN

For the always wonderful, supremely talented, and ever deserving fallen_arazil on the occasion of her birthday…

Beta'd as ever by karaokegal… thank you.

I am posting this early because I am working all day tomorrow and would rather be early than late. With birthday presents as with life.



The lyrics are just prompts. It's not a song!fic.

Song lyrics from Blondie, Velvet Underground, The Ramones, Martha Wainwright and Alanis Morissette.

Call me, call me, any time

"Mrs. Wilson is on line two, Dr. Wilson." It was the nurse with a two year old son and a new Weimaraner puppy, who had a habit of tapping her wedding ring on the edge of the desk when she caught him talking to any of the other nurses.

Wiping at his mouth to make sure there were no traces of lipstick, Wilson lifted the receiver and depressed the appropriate button. "Julie, is anything wrong?"

"I rang your office and your secretary said you were doing rounds. But the nurse said she hadn't seen you. Where have you been?"

Wilson's gut clenched briefly. He was amazed that he even felt guilt any more. "I was doing a consult."

"For House?" Wilson was surprised at the venom in Julie's words. He and House hadn't… well, it had been a while. Wilson had managed to keep his hands off House since marrying Julie. Well, except for that time when House got him drunk. And the night they'd gotten carried away after the baseball game. And the time House walked in on him in the shower. But nothing Julie could possibly know about.

"Not for House. Dr. Edwards. He's new." Wilson was momentarily distracted by the agitated tapping of Ms. Morally-superior's wedding ring. Julie had said something, but he'd missed it. "Sorry, what?"

"I said, are you going to be home for dinner tonight? My parents are coming. They want to see you."

"Yes, of course I'll be there. Do you want to go out, or were you going to cook something?"

"I'm cooking. Be home by six thirty. Please, James. Don't let me down this time."

Wilson scrubbed at the corner of his mouth again, sure he could feel the oily residue of Passion Pink, or whatever shade poor, dying Mr. Simpson's Washington lobbyist daughter was wearing today. "I'll be there. I'm busy, Julie. I'll see you tonight. Goodbye."

He hadn't meant to kiss her. He'd only been trying to soften the bad news with a cup of coffee. Somehow he'd ended up with his arms around her and her lips on his. She said she knew he'd done everything he could and told him she was staying at the Hyatt if he wanted to stop by any time.

He definitely wasn't going to get involved.

If you close the door, the night could last forever.

Wilson liked the hospital after things quieted down for the night. On the fourth floor the lights were dim and no one was around. He could almost forget that on the floors below, machines were beeping, nurses were hurrying and people were dying. He shoved aside the stack of patient folders and ran his fingers through his hair. The tap on the door startled him.

"Come in," he called, wondering who knew he was here.

House's new fellow stuck his head around the door. "Sorry to bother you. I saw your light. Can we -- can I come in for a minute?"

"Dr. Chase. Come in. What can I do for you?" Wilson gestured towards his sofa as he came out from behind his desk.

"I just… How long have you known House?" Chase had his arms crossed, hands clutching at his elbows. He was looking at his knees.

"Too long. What's he done now?" Wilson sat next to Chase. He wanted to reach out and pat the young man's arm, but wasn't sure how Chase might take the gesture.

"I don't think he likes me very much." The words seemed to be fighting their way past clenched teeth.

"Do you think he likes you less than he likes anyone else?" Wilson tried to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"He seems to like you." Chase finally looked up, eyes searching Wilson's face.

"That's a long story." Wilson put his hand on Chase's shoulder, rubbing the curve of his neck with his thumb. "I'm sure House likes you as much as he can."

Wilson felt Chase press into his touch. His lips were slightly parted and Wilson was surprised that he wanted to kiss them. Blonde, pretty, and vulnerable was his taste in women, but he tended to like his men rougher around the edges. Chase shifted so their knees were touching. His arms uncrossed and, questioning look in his eyes, he put a hand on Wilson's thigh. Wilson's fingers tightened on Chase's neck. He ignored the bite of his wedding ring as Chase's lips brushed his. They were even softer than they looked. Nothing was soft about Chase's fingers however; they sought Wilson's fly with practiced movements, coaxing a surprised response from the flesh trapped underneath. Wilson didn't resist when Chase put a hand on his chest and pressed him back onto the sofa cushions. He just pulled Chase down on top of him, still kissing, and thrust into his hand. Only when Chase moaned in response did Wilson glance over to make sure his office door was shut.

Merry Christmas, I don't want to fight tonight with you.

Julie spent three hundred and fifty dollars on a dress for the PPTH holiday party, but she never got to wear it. The afternoon of the party her best friend Eleanor called. She'd gone into labor two and a half weeks early. Her sister was in Cancun, and Julie had promised to baby-sit her other kids while Eleanor and Richard were at the hospital. After extracting a promise from James that he would take her to dinner at the Waldorf-Astoria so she would have somewhere to wear her dress, Julie took her disappointment with good grace. "Have fun. But not too much fun," she admonished on her way out the door.

Wilson was at House's apartment by seven, bored sitting at home alone waiting for the party to start. He rang the bell and straightened the handkerchief in the pocket of his tuxedo jacket in the reflection of the window next to the front door. House buzzed him in. When Wilson opened the apartment door, House was sitting on the couch in jeans and a t-shirt.

"You haven't even started getting ready yet?" Wilson hadn't expected House to be wearing a tux, but he'd thought the man might make some sort of effort.

"Are you laboring under the delusion that I am going to this party?" House pointed the remote at the TV, silencing Alex Trebeck before he could introduce the first contestant.

"When I called and said Julie wasn't coming tonight and did you want to ride with me, what did you think I was talking about? Why did you say yes?"

House held out a bottle of beer and patted the sofa next to him. "I thought you said, 'Did you want to ride me?' and it's been a while, so I figured, why not?"

Wilson didn't know whether to laugh or turn around and leave. "House!" He settled for crossing his arms in exasperation.

"I did wonder about the tux. I thought maybe you were planning some sort of James Bond game."

"House, you are incorrigible. You know Cuddy told us we had to show up."

"What's she going to do to us if we don't? It's a holiday party. She'll have enough to do wooing the bigwig donors without taking attendance. Sit down. Have a beer. Or would you prefer a martini? I'm sure there's a cocktail shaker in there somewhere." House gestured towards the kitchen.

Wilson gave in and sat down next to House. "Very funny. Give me the beer. There better be something good on."

"Oh no, Mr. Bond. I have other plans for you." House tugged loose the knot in Wilson's bow-tie as he pulled him into a kiss.

Poetry is no place for a heart that's a whore.

Wilson always had stacks of Valentine's Day cards. They came from patients, children of patients, parents of patients, and former patients. He got cheesy Hallmark poetry, homemade cards with doilies and glitter, expensive silk cards that came with boxes of chocolates, and folded pieces of typing paper colored with crayon. He cherished them all.

This year, among the traditional 'cancer cards', as House insisted on calling them, was a card that made Wilson a bit nervous. A plain greeting card, white with a red heart on the front; when he opened it up it contained a photograph and a handwritten message. The photo was of Wilson getting into his car in the hospital parking lot. The poem inside said, Roses are red, Violets are blue, I spend my life, waiting for you. He didn't recognize the writing.

Wilson debated showing it to House, and “don’t even think about it” won. If House had somehow arranged the delivery, seeing Wilson's concern would only justify the joke. Instead, he tucked the mystery card into his drawer and busied himself displaying the other ones on the credenza behind his desk. He had a liver biopsy and a consult for one of the staff surgeons that morning. By lunch time he'd forgotten about the strange card.

House burst into his office at noon saying, "OK, where's the loot. I know there's Valentine's chocolate in here, I can smell it."

Wilson tossed him a heart-shaped box. "No one gave you candy?"

House waved the box of chocolates. "You gave me candy. Oooh, soft centers. My favorites."

Wilson remembered the card. "So where's my Valentine?"

House looked at him like he was crazy. "What do you need a card from me for? You have all those cancer cards. And I'm sure your wife gave you something appropriately romantic."

Wilson looked carefully at his friend. House didn't seem to have his game face on. "So, you didn't send me an anonymous card this year?"

"Please tell me you're not that desperate." House bit into one of the chocolates.

Wilson pulled the mysterious card out of his desk. After hesitating for a moment, he showed it to House. House examined the picture, read the poem, and then looked at the back of the card. "You thought I sent you this?"

"I can’t imagine who else it could be from."

House examined the poem again. "Did you sleep with that red-head in Radiology?"

Wilson felt his cheeks heat up. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I got a report from her this morning on one of my patients. This looks a lot like her handwriting."

"We had a couple of drinks. That's all. I didn't go home with her." It never occurred to Wilson to wonder if it should be so easy to lie to his best friend.

"Apparently, she wishes you had. Nice picture by the way. Your ass looks good in those pants."

"House, this isn't funny. What if she's stalking me?"

"She's taking pictures of you getting into your car after work. I think it's safe to say she's stalking you."

"What am I going to do?"

"Get a restraining order?"

House kept a straight face for long enough to make Wilson actually believe he was serious. "You really think..?" Wilson caught House's lip twitch. "I have to do something."

"Talk to Cuddy. And stop having drinks with women who aren't your wife." With those words of wisdom House tossed the card onto Wilson's desk and absconded with the box of chocolates.

Wilson picked up the phone to see if Cuddy had time to see him. House was right. He had to stop sleeping with women he worked with.

We'd best keep this to ourselves and not tell any members of our inner posse.

Wilson leaned against the door of House's office. House was interviewing, yet again, for a new fellow. Wilson saw narrow shoulders and long brown hair. House caught him loitering and gestured for him to enter the room. "Dr. Cameron, this is Dr. Wilson. He's the head of the Oncology department. He's not a very good doctor, but Cuddy's a sucker for a pretty face."

"Well that explains my continued employment, why did she hire you? " Wilson reached out his hand to the girl who appeared mortified by the exchange. "Nice to meet you. House thinks he's the only doctor around here that knows anything. If that's going to bother you I wouldn't bother taking the job."

"Thank you Dr. Wilson, for your opinion. I’m sure you have work to do somewhere else." House fluttered his fingers towards the door dismissively.

Wilson turned to leave. "Nice to meet you Dr. Cameron." He looked at House. "Lunch at twelve thirty?"

"If I'm not having lunch with Dr. Cameron here."

"Later.”

The next time Wilson saw Cameron, she was in the lab peering into one of the microscopes. "You decided to take the job, I see."

"Oh! Dr. Wilson, I didn't hear you come in. Did you need something? I'm almost done here."

"I just thought I'd come in and say hello. How’s House treating you?" Wilson took a few steps closer and leaned towards the microscope.

"It's my first day. It's ok."

Wilson put a hand on Cameron's back and leaned over her shoulder. "What are you looking at?"

Cameron slid off the stool and out from under Wilson's hand. "I was checking for broken red blood cells. But it's fine. That's not the problem. I’ve got a whole list of tests he wants me to run, um… Nice to see you again Dr. Wilson."

Wilson found Cameron the next day in the clinic, facing the usual mob of patients and nurses clamouring for attention. He caught her between a screaming child and a teenager with a nosebleed. "Dr. Cameron. Will you have some dinner with me when you're done here? Your shift ends at six, right?”

Cameron looked apprehensively at the nurse's station where the charge nurse was holding out a chart. "That's really nice of you, but I have dinner plans. I'd better get back to work here."

Wilson watched Cameron take the chart and lead the nosebleed kid into an exam room. Then he saw House walking through the foyer. He caught up with him just before he escaped through the hospital's front doors. "I'm taking you out to dinner."

"What?"

"Three courses, candles, tablecloths, the works. Reservations are for seven."

"Did they change the date of my birthday again?"

"Julie's out of town. I'm tired of take-out. I thought we might actually go somewhere nice for a change."

"Who stood you up?"

"Go home. Put on a shirt. Possibly one that's seen an iron at some point in its existence. I'll pick you up at six thirty."

"It's not Cuddy's new secretary is it? I saw you flirting with her. Don't you know you should never date your friends' employees? It's bad karma."

"I didn't get stood up. Just go change your shirt will you?"

Wilson watched House pick his way around the puddles in the parking lot. He'd gotten the message from Cameron. He just hoped she wouldn't tell House.

end

and no, I'm not a H/W shipper. I don't know what you are talking about.