Chapter Text
"James, you've got to go home."
Cuddy tapped her new nails on her golden-lacquered desk. James Wilson was curled in one of her heavily upholstered chairs, coughing and sneezing.
"It's just a cold. I'll take an advil and be better in a few days."
Cuddy got up, walking over to her friend. One graceful long hand felt his forehead while the other rubbed his back. Wilson whimpered, shivering. He hadn't been sick like this..since forever. Since highschool.
"You're burning up, James. You haven't taken a day off work this month. Please, just go home." she ran a hand through his soft hair; it hadn't been washed in a few days. "Do you need me to drive you?"
Wilson looked up at her, eyes glassy. "Yeah...can you.." he trailed off, coughing.
Cuddy paused, concerned. "James?"
"James? James, can you please get up, I know you're tired."
"James!"
..
She hadn't seen House run to something since his parents had last flown in. It was an odd, comical sort of run, and he knew it. He threw open the door to Cuddy's office, half-dragging his bad leg behind him.
"Wilson's sick." House was panting, leaning on one of her chairs with his other hand on his forehead.
"Running 105 with a bad cough. It's pneumonia. Bacterial. You'd be best to let him rest, he's going to be okay."
"Cameron told me." he paused. "Cuddy, I need to see him. I don't care if I get sick."
"Well, I'll care if two of my department heads have severe infections. You're going to sit here or in the waiting room. No clinic duty, though. I'm not that much of a bitch."
"What room?"
She stared at him incredulously.
"To the right of your office. If you get sick, you'll have 40 hours of clinic after you're clear with me."
"It's a deal." his hand was sweating as they shook. Cuddy went back to her paperwork, mumbling something.
Wilson was curled up in a hospital bed when House found him, eyes staring off into the distance. He shivered a little as the taller doctor entered, sitting down on the chair next to him.
"You're not supposed to be here. I'm incredibly contagious."
As House patted his shoulder, Wilson felt a surge of heat up his entire arm and back. The fever must be getting to his head.
"I won't get sick. I eat apples every day. Anyway, I'm a doctor."
"And what does that make me?" Wilson coughed. "I'm already embarrassed enough as is. Can you just let me rest?"
"What, to be sick? Everyone gets sick. If anything happens, I'll be here to diagnose you."
"I'm everso reassured." Wilson turned over, his mind racing.
Does this mean he really does care for me? I'm...I never get sick. Would Cameron have come to see me? Foreman? It's just a friendly gesture. He'd've done it for anyone else. Anyone else...
House found that Wilson was asleep. He looked so small, under thin ply blankets and run through with wires. He fidgeted in his chair, his friend looked so peaceful. Lying there. His friend. His coworker. Colleague.
Wilson, please be okay. He thought. The tingling, light feeling he felt when they were together seemed to be getting stronger.
"Wilson, I'm going to get food. Be back soon."
..
She was busy, too busy, but Cuddy still found herself sitting at Wilson's bedside. House had about 4 patients he needed to treat, and she had enough dates and deadlines to drown someone in, and Wilson was going to be better in a week or so. But they still found themselves sitting by his bed. House had finally given into clinic duty for once, and Cuddy had brought some files into Wilson's room. It was early in the morning, and a thick and deep mist had clotted around the hospital's windows. Wilson shifted in his bed.
"Is House here?"
"Clinic." Wilson looked a lot better than he had a few days ago. Still pale and weak, but he'd been eating well and coughing less.
"I'm scared to know how you convinced him."
There was a years-long pause. Cuddy looked away.
"You love him." Cuddy curled a stray lock of dark hair. Wilson looked at her, not surprised, but wide eyed.
"It's...It's not true. We're friends. Good friends."
"Your wife hasn't come to see you."
"We're going through a rough patch, Lisa. My coworker can have an interest in my health and wellbeing."
She scooted her chair closer to the hospital bed, pulling a stylish hairbrush out of her handbag.
"You can talk to me. Not as colleagues, as friends. What's on your mind?" she began to brush his hair, gently smoothing around his temples. Wilson let out a breath, relaxing.
"I..I know he doesn't feel the same. We've been friends forever. And I don't want to ruin that. It's never going to work out."
"I've seen how he looks at you, James. He has critical patients in the ICU, and he still came and sat with you, for hours. You know how hard it is to get him to sit still for anything."
"He cares about me, but not like that. It took years to get what we have now, and...I guess I'm too scared."
She continued brushing his hair, almost a sly older sister, her fingers tracing Wilson's soft and warm skin.
"Do you, do you really want what you have now?"
"What do you mean?" he fidgeted a bit.
"This pining thing. It's like middle school. He steals your stuff, you help him, he takes care of you, this banter thing. It's childish, that. You've gotta make a move. He knows Cameron likes him, and they have a...friendly relationship."
"I...I know. I'm a coward. It feels wrong. I know, I know it's okay and it's 2005 and...I just don't know if I'm ready to be..."
"In love with a guy? You already are. You're not that subtle, James."
"I have a wife--"
"--Who's a real bitch."
"I...I don't know if I'm ready to be, well, gay."
"You don't have to be gay. I know this sounds corny, but you're in love with a man, not men. You don't have to know everything right now. One step at a time."
He smiled wide, maybe it was the fever. "I always wanted a big sister." he patted her hand as she brushed his hair.
"That's what I am to you?" Cuddy laughed. They both laughed. "Maybe a few more clinic hours when you're better can't hurt."
He'd spent most of the next few hours rolling over and over again, sleeping on and off. His fever was definitely waning, and his thoughts were clearing. His thoughts...about House. The last 20 or so odd years had been bad enough, but whenever House was worried about him, those feelings became worse and worse. Breathing in deeply, he thought about what Cuddy had said. She..she was right.