Chapter Text
House was quiet that evening mentally chewing over his therapy session. The stubborn idiot was sitting with his bad leg stretched out, elevated on the leg-rest with a pillow underneath it and an ice pack on his thigh. He’d reluctantly admitted to Wilson that he’d fallen mainly because he was barely able to walk by the time he got back to the loft due to the combination of cold weather, increased pain from the bruises and the muscular tension from therapy.
Wilson's lecture had been rather half-hearted after seeing House struggle just walking to the couch, he’d moved House’s wheelchair over and unceremoniously dropped an ice pack in House's lap figuring he should at least be semi-comfortable before being given Wilson's unwanted opinion, the way he’d slammed the glass of water down for House to take his meds had more than got his point across.
House was thinking about the way his life had changed recently; mostly in the last couple of months but also before that. His leg had steadily been getting worse for a while now and although the pain had never been completely consistent as chronic pain rarely is there had been a noticeable deterioration in the last couple of years.
Annoyingly Nolan was right House was afraid of his leg getting worse, The pain management was a work in progress and had been frustrating at times, there was a reason that he had stuck with Vicodin so long even though he knew it wasn’t the best option long term but it had kept the pain manageable enough for him to function without it clouding his mind.
House had gone from refusing to see another pain management specialist to seeing a Physiotherapist, Occupational Therapist and pain specialist who were all trying to help him find a better balance between pacing himself and managing his pain (thankfully none of them had told him to visualise the healing).
The biggest changes in his life of course were Mayfield and Wilson, It had taken House a while to feel ready to fully commit to the new relationship, happiness wasn’t something that came naturally to him and he’d initially been reluctant to give up his old apartment despite the negative memories attached to it and the many ghosts hidden in cupboards and around corners.
House had been afraid that Wilson would find the fourth ex-Mrs Wilson to be and kick him out but he’d been assured that it wasn’t something that he needed to worry about (how many unsuccessful marriages to women did a man need to have before he admitted to being gay?).
Coming out as Wilson's partner at the hospital had been interesting, Cuddy had responded with a laugh and ‘Finally’ Before sending them to HR when they’d told her, Kutner had given House a high five when he’d told the team and Chase had had a similar reaction to Cuddy. House had enjoyed winding up Thirteen by pointing out that she’d set off his Bi-dar because of his bisexuality.
One of his biggest struggles was his body image in regards to his leg, he still hated how it looked and didn’t even like Wilson looking at it if he could avoid it despite Wilson's assurances that he loved House and House's body and thought he was beautiful House couldn’t see how anyone could think that about his scarred thigh. It was something he knew would come up with Nolan in the not-so-distant future while they were talking about his leg and disability.
The wheelchair had been another big change and forced House to face the reality of his deteriorating mobility. It had been suggested months ago by his PT, House had been working on trying to strengthen his thigh and improve his balance a little, the intra-articular injections in his hip and knee were helping to reduce the inflammation in his overstressed joints though he knew a hip and knee replacement would be needed something his PT reminded him would be easier to recover from if he built up his strength now.
House hated PT, every session was a reminder of why he’d never gone back once he was mobile enough to hobble around with a cane. Everything hurt after PT mostly his thigh and right leg but also his shoulder and left leg.
He'd arrived at the hospital for his appointment one day in the middle of winter, to an able-bodied person the untrodden snow and ice would make the world seem bright and new, the crisp snow crunching underfoot and the frozen dew on the grass and cobwebs giving them a crystallised appearance but to House, the world was even more hazardous for his precarious balance.
The temperature had plummeted that weekend and the changes in air pressure had caused House to suffer breakthrough pain and require Wilson to administer rescue medication. He’d limped slowly and painfully into PT after Wilson had dropped him off practically dragging his bad leg, that had been the first time they’d discussed a wheelchair (his PT had suggested it and House had bitten their head off).
It took several more discussions and arguments with his PT, OT and Wilson before House started the process of being assessed for a wheelchair. Managing the unpredictability of his disability and alternating between using the cane and wheelchair was unfamiliar to House, he'd kept a pair of crutches hidden in a cupboard in his old apartment but never used them outside of his home.
Working out when he needed to use the wheelchair had been more of a challenge than House had first thought, when he got the chair it had seemed obvious, on days when his leg was worse or he knew he’d have to walk long distances he’d use the chair otherwise he’d use his cane.
Things hadn’t been so straightforward, as was the nature of his job and the potential for patients to take a sudden turn for the worse he’d ended up stuck at the hospital a couple of times unable to rest his leg, on one occasion he’d called Wilson and had his partner bring his wheelchair to the hospital, his leg feeling like someone had stuck a poker in his thigh and muscles trembling with every step. House had found that going out after a day at work when his leg was sore and tired was easier and more enjoyable if he used his chair.
Going out using the wheelchair took more planning than with the cane, stairs were always an issue a few steps being painful and inconvenient but possible with the cane but steps, stairs and accessible toilets were things he needed to consider as a wheelchair user.
House tended to become hyper-focused, especially on a case, he could easily become so absorbed in research or thinking about a patient that he’d forget to eat or go to the bathroom, he’d also forget to move around and stretch his leg which would stiffen up if he sat for too long. House wasn’t used to finding balance in his life, everything was all or nothing, 0-60, on or off, finding a middle ground or pacing himself was very much still a work in progress due to the frustration of his PT.
House sat back and smiled as he listened to the sound of Wilson humming in the kitchen as he cooked, he was wearing his old McGill sweatshirt that House liked to steal especially if Wilson was stuck at the hospital, it was comfortable and smelled of his boyfriend.
House thought about his conversation with Nolan about adaptions to the loft as he watched Wilson move around the kitchen with ease. House generally sat on a stool when cooking or preparing food keeping everything within easy reach if possible, standing for any length of time was painful and he often had to move around the kitchen without his cane which was getting harder.
Wilson had suggested putting grab rails by the stove and the oven to make it easier for House to keep his balance when he did have to stand or move, the counters were too high for House to cook from his wheelchair but he’d resisted so far and Wilson had dropped the subject knowing House wouldn’t discuss it until he was ready.
Losing the ability to walk unaided was a fear House had yet to face, he could still limp short distances without his cane but those distances were getting shorter and it was getting harder to move around without his cane. A few years ago he could limp around his apartment without his cane now some days it was a struggle to walk from their bed to the en-suite bathroom unaided.
The loft had initially felt like Wilson's home rather than theirs, it had taken a few months after Wilson bought it for House to move in properly and get rid of his apartment now the loft had a mix of both their things including House's instruments.
It was one of the reasons House was hesitant to make the loft more accessible even though the place was undeniably a reflection of House as much as it was Wilson, he’d been partly honest when he’d told Nolan he didn’t want to turn the loft into an old people's home but frustratingly Nolan was right House did have other adaptions and accommodations such as disabled plates and tag and a parking space near the front of the hospital.
House thought about the relationships in his life as he relaxed to the sounds of Wilson bustling around. He had spent so many years alone, even before his leg throughout his miserable childhood being a military brat he was rarely in one place long enough to make friends and maintaining them in an age before the internet was almost impossible.
House had told Wilson that he’d been alienating people since he was three, being more intelligent than most of his peers and frequently bored by them hadn’t helped him make friends. He’d met Wilson after bailing him out of prison, 3000 people attending the conference and Wilson was the only person interesting there, the start of their friendship and all these years later Wilson was still interesting, sometimes House wanted to study him like a lab rat.
It was a strange feeling knowing he wasn’t alone and that he had people who cared about him and supported him, Wilson regularly told House he was proud of him.
He’d always been told by his father that he’d screw up all his relationships; he’d thought it was true until he met Stacy. He gently placed his hand over his thigh lightly running his fingers over the indent in his leg where the muscle had died along with his relationship.
He was still angry with Stacy, still felt betrayed by her taking away his choices, he pressed down on the scar applying the slightest amount of pressure feeling the pain rise, a warning to back off, he rubbed his leg feeling the friction of his jeans irritate his scar before pulling his hand away.
Stacy was still an emotional landmine that House was afraid to agitate in case it went off, he hadn’t gone into detail in therapy yet beyond the basics of the infarction and the surgery he was still too angry at her. House knew Wilson still held a grudge against Stacy despite him visiting Mark when he was sick (Wilson was far too polite not to), House sometimes wondered if part of Wilson was angry at Stacy for leaving him to deal with House after the infarction but he didn’t think that was the case.
House shifted moving the half-melted ice pack onto the coffee table, wincing slightly as he leaned over his bad leg. He looked over at the wheelchair parked next to the couch, he wasn’t ready to acknowledge it verbally but there were advantages besides the reduction in pain.
Before the infarction he’d been active and took pleasure in sports, running had been a great stress relief, a way of clearing his mind ready to start the day, he’d taken it for granted. After the Ketamine had failed he’d stopped dreaming, stopped longing, closed his mind to the idea that he’d ever be physically active again, if he didn’t think about it he told himself it couldn’t hurt.
Using his wheelchair House could move faster than his fastest limp, It wasn’t running but he could feel the wind on his face, the burn in his legs from running had been replaced by a burn in his arms from self-propelling, he’d never run again but he could fell free.
Wilson interrupted his thoughts bringing him a tray with dinner on it, ‘I could hear the wheels turning from the other side of the room’ He remarked gently setting the tray down on House's lap careful not to aggravate his thigh.
House took his anti-inflammatory and started eating, his leg was starting to settle down and he was hungry, the pain hadn’t been bad enough for rescue meds tonight although it was high.
After they finished eating and Wilson had done the dishes they settled down to watch TV. ‘Maybe a hot soak would help’ Wilson suggested.
House shook his head ‘Too soon, need to wait 48 hours after the bruising.’
‘I could give you a massage’ Wilson reached over towards House’s leg before having his hand slapped away.
‘Don’t’ House said, his leg was too sore it was bound to go into spasm.
Wilson looked hurt, he was generally good at helping House manage his pain but he didn’t always get it right.
‘Sorry, I just thought…’
House leaned over and kissed him, a guaranteed way to shut him up. ‘I know’ He said as they parted ‘It’s just too sensitive right now’ He explained.
After they’d watched TV for a bit Wilson went and showered while House lay in bed. Despite how drained he felt his mind wouldn't slow down. He thought about all the nights in the past trying to numb his pain and loneliness with Vicodin and alcohol when he thought the only thing he could depend on never to abandon him was his pain.
Now he had a partner and a support system, he was on good terms with Cuddy even after hallucinating having sex with her and broadcasting it to half the hospital, he had Nolan and despite their difficult start after the incident with Freedom Master that almost resulted in the other patients death and House being transferred to another hospital, even the ducklings were supportive and to his relief still respected him (he was relieved that he was still able to bite the heads off idiots even if those idiots were occasionally his staff), but mostly he had Wilson.
The pain would never leave but neither would Wilson.