I fell out of touch with the fandom due to the PoT headrush over the summer, but god I love House. I've had a House/Wilson fic in the works since October, so close to being done. I missed the most recent 3 eps and have been catching up on them tonight, and discovering to my gratification that my fic plot has been totally trumped by 2x17. If that's the case I'll just leave out all the nasty medical bits that I didn't know how to write anyway. My plot being used as a canon plot makes me feel perceptive, which is kinda nice, even though it's a complete cliche.
Anyway, I abandoned all my house/wilson icons in favor of tezuka/ryoma love, but I don't think I can stress enough what an amazing pairing House/Wilson is. I mean. Seriously. No non-explicit canon ship of any recent series has been more adamantly built up by that canon than Tezuka/Ryoma, but if you had to argue for another ship to outslash all comers, I think the clear choice would be House/Wilson. The subtext is intentional, but even without that House/Wilson would continue to be this endlessly intriguing creature. The depth of their relationship is so fascinating and so satisfying, and Robert Sean Leonard is just so incredibly elusive and full of paradox as Wilson. I never get tired of watching him when he's around Hugh Laurie. They have this amazing chemistry and also a deep awareness, I think, as actors, that there is something more to House and Wilson's relationship than they've ever yet touched on as friends.
Whatever that something is, I have a feeling it's going to boil over by the end of this season. Someone on my flist joked about them making out in the season finale; I think more seriously Wilson is going to seriously lose his shit at House. For the second half of this season he's been growing increasingly alarmed and frustrated and, I think, angry at himself for the things he puts up with House, and yet he keeps doing it with a simultaneous grace and chagrin that only RSL can really pull off this beautifully. God. I love him. I love this character and I love the House/Wilson dynamic so much.
I was going to say something about cars here. But I think I'll leave that for another time to bask in the glow of my House/Wilson love.
And, just because I can, and because I haven't written anything at all in way too long, here's a cookie.
Wilson wastes an hour poking around on the internet to learn that most American 401K financiers invest in tobacco companies because they’re the easiest high-yield, low-risk return available in large quantities. Then he digs some more and learns that, sure enough, Princeton Plainsboro is one of them. He sits contemplating the deep ironies of the oncologist whose job is funded by the same source that kills 90% of all cancer patients, and then the further irony that if not for tobacco he wouldn’t have a job anyway, and what he really wants is to drag House home and drown his angst in that other great American vice known as Jack Daniels, except House is avoiding him and he thinks he might be avoiding House, and he doesn’t really want to think about the whys of that, not without years of therapy, or at least several bottles of the aforementioned Jack Daniels down his throat, even if House does wield that blue turtleneck like a weapon because he knows what he looks like in it, and Wilson is just about to do something supremely embarrassing like jaunt off to the men’s room or slip his hand under his desk when Foreman knocks on his door.
“I just thought you should know,” he says in his quiet, somber voice, “House is sending us home.”
Foreman looks apologetic, as if he feels he should be able to predict House better than this by now. “We were doing a differential and he stopped and told us all to go home and get some sleep.” He frowns and looks at Wilson. “Is that it? Is that House’s way of giving up?”
“House doesn’t give up,” Wilson says shortly. “That’s just his way of making sure his diagnostic team has enough energy to do their jobs in the morning.”
Foreman scoffs, but it’s light. “Sure,” he says. “Because he’s always cared about that before.”
Cameron pops around the corner and says, “Oh. You told him.” She edges inside the doorway.
“And then there were two,” says Wilson.
“How are things with House?” she asks.
Wilson rolls his eyes. “I haven’t seen him today.”
“I meant when you’re at—home,” Cameron stammers. Foreman gives her a look, and Cameron flushes. Wilson takes pity on her.
“He’s… unbearable,” he says lightly. “But under the circumstances, I can’t blame him.”
“I heard about your patients,” Cameron says, her voice dropping to the register of pure sincerity only she can locate. “I’m sorry.”
Wilson shrugs. “It’s not as if losing fights is new to me.”
Chase appears, sees the three of them, and hurries in gratefully as if he is late to the meeting and glad someone saved him a seat. “I went to see if the lab results are in.”
The other ducklings perk up as if someone has sprayed them with water. “Anything?” says Foreman.
Chase shakes his head, and Wilson thinks impulsively that it’s easy to see why House hired him, because you have to love a guy who keeps standing up every time he gets knocked down. “Negative for Hep C and HIV.”
"Did you tell House?” Cameron asks worriedly.
“Yeah,” says Chase, and he almost—not quite—glances at Wilson for a reaction. “He erased the whiteboard and said tomorrow we start over.”
Foreman’s shoulders unclench, and he looks satisfied. “Not giving up,” he says. Something shifts in the air, and Wilson understands why the three of them are in his office.
He pushes out his desk chair. “Look,” he says. “House hired the three of you for moments like this. You’re not supporting him. You’re amplifying the possibilities of saving this patient’s life. All of you, working together, are stronger than House can ever be. Your job is not to help him through the trial of not being able to solve every case he deals with. Your job is to take him somewhere new and think in ways he isn’t.”
They share a moment of collective, shocked silence. Then Chase blurts, “But he hates the way we think.”
“Not now he doesn’t,” Wilson says seriously.
After another moment, Cameron says awkwardly, “We should probably go.”
“Go home,” Wilson says, wondering if this is what motherhood is like. "And get some sleep."