Title: Place Yourself
Mar. 13th, 2011 04:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cosmic_tuesdaysTitle: Place Yourself
Author: Hannah Orlove
Fandom: House MD
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: PG
Notes: Follows Leave Me To Lay, set at the beginning of season six. Title comes from the song “Low Desert” by R.E.M. Written former_duff and topaz_eyes, who also beta-read.
The first two nights had been overcast and windy; the early-fall rainstorm finally broke through on Thursday but didn’t let up until early in the morning, so they’d waited for Friday night. House knew Wilson went up alone in all sorts of storm warnings but wouldn’t let a passenger ride along unless he had definitive clearance from NOAA, preferably by phone from the director himself. Some things couldn’t be changed, no matter how much time passed or how many variables came into play.
Celebrating his release felt anti-climatic, somehow, when there hadn’t been a big parade with trumpets and trombones and elephants, or even more than one person waiting for him. In a car, no less. Somehow he’d hoped Wilson would swoop down, snatch him up, and fly to some hotel where they’d have unlimited privacy for a properly filthy reunion, but he knew Wilson needed to go through the motions when he went out in public. Neither of them bothered with it private, House talking while he laughed with his mouth full and hands busy and Wilson sitting cross-legged above the chair. Chinese take-out with extra hoisin sauce was the big meal to welcome him back to their apartment. No beer, not yet, not until his meds got themselves sorted out in his system. It’d been comforting to know some of the doctors made the same ‘taste the rainbow’ jokes, even if they were too polite to say them to anyone. Out loud, anyway.
House knew how hard it was for Wilson to stay down the first nights; he knew he’d prefer to cope with the stress by blowing kisses at airline pilots, and the build-up made the eventual climax that much sweeter. He made House bundle up, extra socks and a pair of gloves, and used a harness to keep him close without anyone’s arms getting tired, and sped up as fast as he was able, wind literally whistling in their ears and the hood of Wilson’s sweatshirt flapping like the world’s most pathetic cape. It wasn’t that gravity dropped away from Wilson as much that gravity was an abstract concept he didn’t give a rat’s ass about – kind of silly given how abstract most of his travel was for pretty much everyone else. House took a deep breath, cold air hitting the back of his throat and shocking his lungs, trying to find the mental equivalent of a handhold to get a grip on Wilson’s processing before looking down.
The higher up they got, the quieter it got and the smaller the lights down below got, and soon it was hard to pick out which buildings were which. Everything was spread out under them, dim civilization that glowed just enough to be seen from this high up – then this high up, then this, and he remembered riding along on Wilson’s back last fall and rushing along just over the treetops and still close enough to hear people like flicking through radio stations and how the air here didn’t smell like the park but smelled like nothing at all.
He didn’t need to ask or go far in to learn what Wilson thought it smelled like: his bedroom in summer when he was fifteen, when the lights were off and the windows wide open and breezes coming through, just strong enough to move the shades, when he’d close his eyes and let it flow over his face.
There was sound up here from the wind, but no noise, just the wind and Wilson. The clouds were all gone, or else Wilson would’ve gone even higher to get House a good look up. House knew Wilson wondered if he got up high enough, if the cities would look like the stars, and House didn’t let Wilson know he knew that and worried more than he should. For now, he stayed quiet and small in the thin air, easily picking out the constellations in the stars shining so much brighter than the people far down below.
House hadn’t been allowed outside at night during his time in Mayfield. Otherwise he’d have been up here several weeks ago, strapped in just like he was now for a private showing of the Perseid shower. He knew Wilson had taken them to pretty much where he’d watched it alone for hours, and asked him what it’d looked like: it overlaid his vision, Wilson’s memories of streaks of light gliding and sliding and dashing across the sky almost close –
“They’ll be back next year,” Wilson whispered, harshly, the thin air making it hard to speak softly.
House leaned his head back, opened and closed his eyes. I’ll be there.
Author: Hannah Orlove
Fandom: House MD
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: PG
Notes: Follows Leave Me To Lay, set at the beginning of season six. Title comes from the song “Low Desert” by R.E.M. Written for
mer_duff and topaz_eyes, who also beta-read.The first two nights had been overcast and windy; the early-fall rainstorm finally broke through on Thursday but didn’t let up until early in the morning, so they’d waited for Friday night. House knew Wilson went up alone in all sorts of storm warnings but wouldn’t let a passenger ride along unless he had definitive clearance from NOAA, preferably by phone from the director himself. Some things couldn’t be changed, no matter how much time passed or how many variables came into play.
Celebrating his release felt anti-climatic, somehow, when there hadn’t been a big parade with trumpets and trombones and elephants, or even more than one person waiting for him. In a car, no less. Somehow he’d hoped Wilson would swoop down, snatch him up, and fly to some hotel where they’d have unlimited privacy for a properly filthy reunion, but he knew Wilson needed to go through the motions when he went out in public. Neither of them bothered with it private, House talking while he laughed with his mouth full and hands busy and Wilson sitting cross-legged above the chair. Chinese take-out with extra hoisin sauce was the big meal to welcome him back to their apartment. No beer, not yet, not until his meds got themselves sorted out in his system. It’d been comforting to know some of the doctors made the same ‘taste the rainbow’ jokes, even if they were too polite to say them to anyone. Out loud, anyway.
House knew how hard it was for Wilson to stay down the first nights; he knew he’d prefer to cope with the stress by blowing kisses at airline pilots, and the build-up made the eventual climax that much sweeter. He made House bundle up, extra socks and a pair of gloves, and used a harness to keep him close without anyone’s arms getting tired, and sped up as fast as he was able, wind literally whistling in their ears and the hood of Wilson’s sweatshirt flapping like the world’s most pathetic cape. It wasn’t that gravity dropped away from Wilson as much that gravity was an abstract concept he didn’t give a rat’s ass about – kind of silly given how abstract most of his travel was for pretty much everyone else. House took a deep breath, cold air hitting the back of his throat and shocking his lungs, trying to find the mental equivalent of a handhold to get a grip on Wilson’s processing before looking down.
The higher up they got, the quieter it got and the smaller the lights down below got, and soon it was hard to pick out which buildings were which. Everything was spread out under them, dim civilization that glowed just enough to be seen from this high up – then this high up, then this, and he remembered riding along on Wilson’s back last fall and rushing along just over the treetops and still close enough to hear people like flicking through radio stations and how the air here didn’t smell like the park but smelled like nothing at all.
He didn’t need to ask or go far in to learn what Wilson thought it smelled like: his bedroom in summer when he was fifteen, when the lights were off and the windows wide open and breezes coming through, just strong enough to move the shades, when he’d close his eyes and let it flow over his face.
There was sound up here from the wind, but no noise, just the wind and Wilson. The clouds were all gone, or else Wilson would’ve gone even higher to get House a good look up. House knew Wilson wondered if he got up high enough, if the cities would look like the stars, and House didn’t let Wilson know he knew that and worried more than he should. For now, he stayed quiet and small in the thin air, easily picking out the constellations in the stars shining so much brighter than the people far down below.
House hadn’t been allowed outside at night during his time in Mayfield. Otherwise he’d have been up here several weeks ago, strapped in just like he was now for a private showing of the Perseid shower. He knew Wilson had taken them to pretty much where he’d watched it alone for hours, and asked him what it’d looked like: it overlaid his vision, Wilson’s memories of streaks of light gliding and sliding and dashing across the sky almost close –
“They’ll be back next year,” Wilson whispered, harshly, the thin air making it hard to speak softly.
House leaned his head back, opened and closed his eyes. I’ll be there.
