Work Text:
He sunk into the bed, feeling utterly exhausted and entirely defeated. Working in oncology, one would think that James Wilson would be desensitized to the sort of tragedy he often saw at work. Arguably, the job did change the man, but there were still some sights that just never got any easier. Losing a kid to cancer, especially a cancer that could have just as easily gone into remission, was an example of one of those things that never got easy with his job.
He had been working much later than he usually would that day, and so it didn’t surprise him to find Greg already in bed when he got home that evening. Mindful of his love, Wilson carefully shifted onto his side, his eyes glued to the wall of their shared bedroom as he played over the event in his head again and again. Could he have done something different? Would anything changing have saved his patient? He let out a shaky breath and tried to put the events of his shift at the hospital out of his mind for the time being. He couldn’t change anything now, anyway.
He thought he had done a good job of staying quiet, so it startled him to hear the other man ask, “Rough day?”
Those two words broke through Wilson’s work-mask, and he flung himself into the comfort of his husband’s arms. At first, nobody spoke. Neither man needed to speak– they knew each other. Words would offer very little solace for Wilson, and House didn’t waste any time on attempting to offer them to his husband. Instead, he focused on the comforting gestures that he knew would work– he pulled Wilson into his chest and held the man against his chest, rubbing his back gently.
Wilson knew that he was lucky. He knew that this side of House, the side that would hold him through his tears and his heartbreak after every patient he lost in his devastating field of work, was his alone. No one else, not House’s patients or their co-workers, got to see the gentle husband the man could be behind closed doors. Nobody else saw House the husband, and it made Wilson feel special to know that he was the exception to Greg’s closed-off life and walled-off emotions.
He sighed into House’s bare chest, letting his anguish and heartache melt away under the gentle hold Greg had on him. “Thank you,” he said, closing his eyes. It was as much an I love you as it was a true, heartfelt thanks for the comfort, which both men knew.
Later, once Wilson was feeling normal again and the sadness had passed, they would talk about it. House, the voice of reason in their marriage, would assure him that nothing could have saved the patient, and Wilson would listen and believe him (even if, maybe, House was stretching the truth for Wilson’s sanity). That was just how their relationship worked through the scenario, knowing that nothing would change. James would still go to work treating cancer patients with unlikely prognoses, and Greg would remain ready to take the brunt of the trauma of each loss he endured.
For better or for worse, after all.