One Is Silver (PG)
Jun. 1st, 2011 07:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deelaundryTitle: One Is Silver
Author: Dee Laundry
Characters: Wilson
Rating: PG
Words: 690
Summary: Another beginning in Wilson's life
Notes: Set after Season 7, although there are no actual spoilers for the season within the fic. May be some in any comments. Thank you todaisylily, true gold, for the beta.
There’s an instant in which he realizes that starting a friendship for the wrong reasons is perhaps as disordered and destructive as starting a romantic relationship for the wrong reasons, but these seem to be different wrong reasons and anyway, he's tired of thinking. Tired of worrying. Tired of caring, and isn't that a kick in the balls, that a friendship between two men, between anyone and House, can be burdened with too much caring.
House is and remains as God made him, whatever that means and wherever he may be.
Wilson's tired of caring, and Brian has tickets to a quiet club Wilson hasn't been to in years.
James hasn't been to.
It becomes, in what seems like -- or is; they’re not kids any more -- a very short period of time, a thing.
Not a thing thing, just a thing. A fact. A truism. If Wilson isn’t around, then it means James has gone off with Brian.
There’s no telling where they might be. Brian’s a professor at the business school, and a music fan, a home beer-brewer and a weekend softball player. James likes art, wine, sailing, and old movies. Instead of driving them apart, however, that just doubles the number of things they might be doing. Hence, the difficulty in tracking them down.
If you happen to be looking for them.
Which no one generally is, and Wilson might once have been disappointed in that but James doesn’t particularly care. (He was tired of caring, remember?)
James gets a new job offer, and Brian helps him run the numbers. Cost-benefit analysis, rectangular cells in Excel, and utility functions. Considering the intangibles is where James gets stuck, and Brian can’t help even though his doctorate was on goodwill.
James decides to stay. Brian conducts the salary negotiations with the Dean of Medicine, and James re-balances his retirement account.
Brian’s new girlfriend Tessa has a friend. Sweet, caring. Not as bright as some, but warm-hearted and generous. Turns out she likes cats.
James asks her out the second time he meets her.
Brian’s noticed there are some things James doesn’t talk about. His family, for one. The covered-up old organ in the corner of his living room, for another. But, they’re guys, and shit, that’s one of the great things about being guy-friends: not having to have capital-c Conversations. So Brian doesn’t push, doesn’t even casually ask. It’s not like they don’t have enough to talk about anyway, between the stupid-ass policies of the new Provost, and Tessa’s charity walks (James is a monster at fundraising), and the lineup of the New York Asian Film Festival.
It’s good. James is a good guy. Wicked sense of humor and patience out the wazoo. Can’t bargain on deals to save his life, and always way over-tips, but that’s all right. Brian helps him out. And James helps Brian out. It’s good to have a best friend, someone who’s always got your back. Brian hasn’t had one since college. (He’d thought business school was cut-throat when getting his MBA, but shit, the doctorate was a million times worse.) He’s not sure he’s ever had a friend as good as James.
Not that he goes around telling James that on a regular basis. It’s not like they’re dating, or teenage girls, or anything. He might’ve mentioned it once, after a couple of seven-and-sevens, slumped in the corner of James’ ugly orange couch (which smells sometimes like it was pulled out of a dumpster; it’s the most bizarre thing in his loft), as James hummed along to the closing credits of something in black-and-white.
James had smiled at him, and offered a blanket, and said, “You’re awesome yourself,” while turning the TV off. They sat in silent dark for a minute, and then James whispered something nonsensical and Brian’s eyelids were drooping and James went to bed and Brian fell asleep on the ugly orange couch with built-in recliner.
Brian thinks he must’ve misheard, that James didn’t whisper anything, because, honestly, what reason would the man have to say, “Please don’t let me fuck this up too”? Makes no sense. None at all.
Crossposted to Livejournal; please comment there.
Author: Dee Laundry
Characters: Wilson
Rating: PG
Words: 690
Summary: Another beginning in Wilson's life
Notes: Set after Season 7, although there are no actual spoilers for the season within the fic. May be some in any comments. Thank you to
daisylily, true gold, for the beta.There’s an instant in which he realizes that starting a friendship for the wrong reasons is perhaps as disordered and destructive as starting a romantic relationship for the wrong reasons, but these seem to be different wrong reasons and anyway, he's tired of thinking. Tired of worrying. Tired of caring, and isn't that a kick in the balls, that a friendship between two men, between anyone and House, can be burdened with too much caring.
House is and remains as God made him, whatever that means and wherever he may be.
Wilson's tired of caring, and Brian has tickets to a quiet club Wilson hasn't been to in years.
James hasn't been to.
It becomes, in what seems like -- or is; they’re not kids any more -- a very short period of time, a thing.
Not a thing thing, just a thing. A fact. A truism. If Wilson isn’t around, then it means James has gone off with Brian.
There’s no telling where they might be. Brian’s a professor at the business school, and a music fan, a home beer-brewer and a weekend softball player. James likes art, wine, sailing, and old movies. Instead of driving them apart, however, that just doubles the number of things they might be doing. Hence, the difficulty in tracking them down.
If you happen to be looking for them.
Which no one generally is, and Wilson might once have been disappointed in that but James doesn’t particularly care. (He was tired of caring, remember?)
James gets a new job offer, and Brian helps him run the numbers. Cost-benefit analysis, rectangular cells in Excel, and utility functions. Considering the intangibles is where James gets stuck, and Brian can’t help even though his doctorate was on goodwill.
James decides to stay. Brian conducts the salary negotiations with the Dean of Medicine, and James re-balances his retirement account.
Brian’s new girlfriend Tessa has a friend. Sweet, caring. Not as bright as some, but warm-hearted and generous. Turns out she likes cats.
James asks her out the second time he meets her.
Brian’s noticed there are some things James doesn’t talk about. His family, for one. The covered-up old organ in the corner of his living room, for another. But, they’re guys, and shit, that’s one of the great things about being guy-friends: not having to have capital-c Conversations. So Brian doesn’t push, doesn’t even casually ask. It’s not like they don’t have enough to talk about anyway, between the stupid-ass policies of the new Provost, and Tessa’s charity walks (James is a monster at fundraising), and the lineup of the New York Asian Film Festival.
It’s good. James is a good guy. Wicked sense of humor and patience out the wazoo. Can’t bargain on deals to save his life, and always way over-tips, but that’s all right. Brian helps him out. And James helps Brian out. It’s good to have a best friend, someone who’s always got your back. Brian hasn’t had one since college. (He’d thought business school was cut-throat when getting his MBA, but shit, the doctorate was a million times worse.) He’s not sure he’s ever had a friend as good as James.
Not that he goes around telling James that on a regular basis. It’s not like they’re dating, or teenage girls, or anything. He might’ve mentioned it once, after a couple of seven-and-sevens, slumped in the corner of James’ ugly orange couch (which smells sometimes like it was pulled out of a dumpster; it’s the most bizarre thing in his loft), as James hummed along to the closing credits of something in black-and-white.
James had smiled at him, and offered a blanket, and said, “You’re awesome yourself,” while turning the TV off. They sat in silent dark for a minute, and then James whispered something nonsensical and Brian’s eyelids were drooping and James went to bed and Brian fell asleep on the ugly orange couch with built-in recliner.
Brian thinks he must’ve misheard, that James didn’t whisper anything, because, honestly, what reason would the man have to say, “Please don’t let me fuck this up too”? Makes no sense. None at all.
Crossposted to Livejournal; please comment there.