darkdreamer | Shadows of Doubt, 2.5 -- Daddy's Boy

Hey, guys, here's the latest chapter of Shadows of Doubt -- and I've got to admit this one was incredibly emotional for me writing it, for some reason. I went over and over this one, and still am not 100% satisfied with the result, but I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think.

*hugs*
DoS

Title: Shadows of Doubt: A Dark!Wilson House Redux
Episode: 2.5 -- Daddy's Boy
Beta:

andi88
Disclaimer: House, Wilson, and all other characters/ideas taken from the show are not my own, and I'm making no profit from the writing of this fiction -- just for fun, I promise. :P (Some dialogue this chapter taken directly from the episode.)
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: In this particular 'verse, I've changed one thing about the canon timeline. At the beginning of the story, when House and Wilson first get together, Wilson is already recently divorced from Julie.
Story Warnings: slash, dark Wilson -- specific warnings for each chapter as necessary
Chapter Warnings: none
Story Summary: A darker version of how canon might have gone, if House and Wilson had entered into a relationship from the start -- and if that relationship took a gradually dark, disturbing turn.
Chapter Summary: Wilson finds out that House lied to him about the money, and reacts very badly. Meanwhile, House's parents are in town, and Wilson insists that they tell them the truth about their relationship.

“You’re taking it back.”

“But Mom…”

House let out an exaggerated whine, giving Wilson a wicked smirk over his shoulder as he settled himself more comfortably on the seat of the motorcycle he had bought with Wilson’s five thousand dollars.

“How about we talk about this over dinner?” he suggested lightly.

Wilson was not amused.

“You know that we have some rather important dinner plans already,” Wilson reminded him. “And I’m serious, House,” he insisted, no trace of humor in his voice. “You’re going to kill yourself! You’re taking it back.”

“Nice bike!”

House glanced over his shoulder again, grinning when he saw his team approaching. Wilson did not seem nearly so pleased to see them. For his part, House wasn’t terribly concerned.

“Thank you.” He aimed a teasing wink in Wilson’s direction. “See? That’s how you do it. Compliments, dinner…”

“What do you do with your cane?” Cameron asked as she studied House’s new toy.

House cast an appreciative leer in Wilson’s direction as he replied, “If he buys me dinner, he’ll find out.”

House’s smirk of amusement at Wilson’s expense faded into a troubled frown when Wilson was silent, an angry scowl creasing his brow as he turned and stalked away, visibly fuming.

House’s team quickly distracted him from Wilson’s mood, however, bringing his mind back to focus on their patient. The next few hours were spent busily working to find the cause of the illness, so House had little time to worry about Wilson – or the other cause for concern that was constantly in the back of his mind that day.

His parents were coming into town that evening.

House did his best to distract his team from the overwhelming curiosity that came over them as soon as they figured out that House’s parents would be there, and was grateful for the fact that at least Foreman seemed more interested in their patient than in figuring out how House’s childhood had influenced the mysterious enigma of a person he had become.

Chase seemed slightly more curious… but Cameron was absolutely relentless.

*****************************

“Is there something important that you and House need to discuss over dinner?”

Wilson raised an eyebrow in Cameron’s direction as she sat down in front of his desk and came directly to her rather invasive point. His voice was level and cautious when he finally replied.

“Is there a reason in particular that you’re asking?”

“Well…” Cameron lowered her gaze self-consciously, hesitating as she explained, “… House’s parents are coming into town tonight, and… I think he’s trying to avoid seeing them…”

“He’s not. They’re going to dinner with us.”

“Oh.” Cameron was quiet, wide-eyed, clearly surprised by that. After a moment she continued. “Do you think… you might have room for one more?”

Wilson blinked, startled by the question. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, a certain coolness entering his expression – but Cameron failed to recognize the danger signs with which she was unfamiliar.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just that… I’m so curious. I’d love to meet them… find out what they’re like…”

Wilson was quiet for a moment, his eyes focused on his desk with a strangely tight smile on his lips, tapping his pen rapidly against the desk as he tried – and failed – to rein in his irritation. Abruptly he looked up at her, his voice cold and sharp as he finally answered her rather presumptuous request.

“I’m sorry if we have some more important issues to deal with tonight than your curiosity, Cameron. House hasn’t seen his parents in a couple of years, and tonight we’re going to be dealing with some very important issues with them. The last thing he needs is someone else tagging along just to watch the show.”

Cameron blinked, taken aback. “I’m sorry,” she replied automatically, though she didn’t sound particularly apologetic. “Is… everything okay? Is House all right? Or…”

“It’s none of your business!” Wilson snapped, indignant at her persistence, leaning forward over his desk to give her a warning glare. “It’s personal, and if he wanted to share it with you, don’t you think he would have?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Cameron repeated, sounding more genuinely embarrassed now. “I just… wanted to make sure he was okay…”

“He’s fine, Cameron.” Wilson’s tone was short and terse as he let out an impatient sigh and leaned back in his seat again, studying her reaction as he continued with scathing sarcasm, “Just dealing with possibly the biggest life event he’s experienced since puberty – a major life change he’s only started coming to terms with since the last time he saw his parents. I know it must be difficult for you to imagine what that might be…”

Cameron’s eyes were round as saucers as she finally put it together. “Oh. Oh. So… you’re telling them tonight? I had no idea. If I’d known I wouldn’t have…”

“Cameron.”

“Yes?”

“Please. Go check on your patient.”

As she scurried away as quickly as she could manage, Wilson leaned forward again, wearily resting his head in his hands. He hadn’t meant to snap at her, and knew that as much as he hated the idea, he would have to seek her out later and apologize for his behavior with her – at least, if he wanted her to continue to trust him and feel close to him.

Keep your enemies closer and all that… It wouldn’t do to have her figure out how I really feel about her… not now…

It was just so frustrating, on top of everything else that was weighing on him that day. There was the impending visit from House’s parents, and the heavy discussion he knew would take place at dinner that night – at his insistence. House was hesitant, reluctant to tell his parents about the new relationship in his life, especially since Wilson was the first man he had ever been with, and his parents had no idea of his sexuality.

However, Wilson insisted that they should come clean with his parents right away. Wilson planned to be a big part of House’s life for a long time, and he didn’t like the idea of having to hide himself away every time they happened by for a visit. He was nobody’s dirty little secret. They were going to tell House’s parents the truth tonight, whether House liked it or not.

And then there was House’s new bike.

He lied to me. He told me he needed the money to buy a car, and then he went out and got that… that death trap instead. He played me for a fool, and manipulated me to get what he wanted… and he has to know that that is not okay…

Wilson sighed, leaning back in his chair and resigning himself to the idea of waiting to deal with that particular confrontation.

Just… after we get through tonight. One hurdle at a time…

************************

House watched from the sofa, still in the same casual clothes he had worn to work, as Wilson rushed around the apartment, in a desperate hurry to get ready in time for them to leave to meet House’s parents for dinner. He had arrived home from work later than usual, and in a terrible mood, obviously very stressed out.

House was currently taking pride in the act of being deliberately, spectacularly unhelpful.

He felt no desire whatsoever to ease Wilson’s anxiety over the impending meeting with his parents. After all, Wilson was the one who was pushing him into having a conversation about things he was certain would be better left unsaid – practically forcing him to tell his parents about personal aspects of his life that he knew they would not take well.

He had told Wilson all that – but Wilson didn’t seem to care.

Therefore, House didn’t care if Wilson drove himself crazy with worry trying to get ready.

Yeah, so it’s passive-aggressive. I don’t much care about that at the moment, either.

“Have you seen my lavender shirt?” Wilson called from the bedroom, the muffled sound of his voice indicating that he was probably digging through the closet in search of the missing article.

“Yeah,” House called back, smirking, quite pleased with himself. “I’m pretty sure it’s in that crumpled up pile in the corner of the room, with your other laundry waiting to be washed.” He paused, considering for a moment before adding derisively, “And what kind of man uses the word ‘lavender’? Especially when he could use words like ‘hideously ugly’ or ‘so gay I should wear one too and then we won’t have to tell my parents anything’?”

Wilson appeared in the bedroom doorway a moment later, eyes wide and slightly panicked, apparently oblivious to House’s remarks, focused only on the first half of what he’d said. Disbelieving, he stated, “It was clean. Hanging up in the closet. You knew I wanted to wear it tonight. Why would it be with the dirty laundry?”

House shrugged without looking at him, feigning boredom. “Oops.”

“House.” Wilson’s voice became sharp as he crossed his arms over his chest, taking a step into the living room. “This is ridiculous. The whole point of this evening is for you… so that you don’t have to hide who you are anymore, and can just come clean about this…”

“For me?” House echoed dubiously, glancing up at Wilson before returning his gaze to the silent television screen. “Huh. Could have fooled me.”

Wilson was silent for a moment, stunned. After a moment, however, he seemed to recover, stalking furiously into the living room and closer to where House sat on the sofa. Instinctively, House rose to his feet as Wilson advanced, returning Wilson’s outraged expression with a defiant glare.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Wilson demanded.

“It means that if this had anything to do with what I wanted, we wouldn’t even be going! If this was for me, then you wouldn’t be forcing me to…”

“I’m not forcing you to do anything!” Wilson insisted, frustrated.

“Fine.” House raised his eyebrows in a challenge, arms crossed as he studied Wilson’s reaction to his words. “Then I’m not going. Go ahead and go if you want to. I’ll be right here.” He paused a moment, allowing a triumphant smirk to rise to his lips as he added a deliberate goad. “Or maybe I’ll just go for a little ride on my new bike – which will be staying my new bike for as long as I want it, just so you know.”

Wilson’s eyes narrowed, smoldering with dark fury as he closed the rest of the distance between himself and House, muttering coldly, “The hell it will! That was my money you spent on it, and I said you’re taking it back…”

“No,” House declared, snatching up his keys from the end table beside the couch and heading toward the door. “In fact, I think I’ll just go for a ride right now. Have fun at dinner.”

“Oh, no you don’t!”

Wilson’s voice was low and trembling with barely repressed rage as he followed House to the door, easily overtaking him and grabbing his arm, yanking him back toward the living room. House turned, twisting out of Wilson’s grasp and reaching for the door with his free hand.

“Stop me!” he challenged.

And that was possibly his biggest mistake, because… Wilson did.

Grabbing House’s arm again, Wilson reached out with his other hand to catch House’s wrist before he could touch the door, pulling him off balance and slamming him hard against the wall beside the door. When House instinctively raised his cane in his hand, Wilson furiously snatched it out of his grasp, cracking it against the wall mere inches from House’s head before hurling it behind him and well out of House’s reach. House flinched at the loud sound so close to his ear, the momentary impression that Wilson was going to hit him with the cane, and froze as Wilson suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair, viciously shaking him by it as he shifted intimidatingly close to him.

“You think you’re gonna hit me, House?” Wilson snarled, slamming his palm against the wall by House’s head in rage, a cold smile rising to his lips when House gave an instinctive, violent flinch at the menacing gesture. “You really think you’re gonna hit me?”

House shook his head, swallowing hard, his breath quickening with the panic of being hemmed in and restrained by the younger, stronger man. Wilson drew back his hand and brought it down in a breathtaking slap across House’s face, knocking his head into the wall behind him and making him see stars as Wilson shook him again.

“Answer me!” he demanded.

“N-no,” House struggled to get the single word out, holding his hands up in front of him in a gesture of surrender. “No, I wasn’t gonna…”

“Shut up!”

Wilson hit him again, but this time he hesitated at the last moment, redirecting the blow so that it fell on House’s upper arm, just below his shoulder, instead of striking him in the face again. Wilson gripped House’s arms in a painfully tight grasp, pinning him between the wall and Wilson’s body. House cringed at the cold, furious menace in Wilson’s soft voice as he continued, unnervingly calm.

“You will not talk to me that way, House… and you will not walk away from me, do you understand?”

It had been weeks since that first time when Wilson had struck him, during which time Wilson had been nothing but kind and loving and attentive. Therefore, this violent reaction to House’s defiance caught him completely off guard. Stunned and bewildered by the suddenness of the attack, frightened and unsure how to react, House simply fell back on an old, painfully familiar pattern of response. His head was lowered, his eyes averted, and he swallowed hard before nodding slowly.

“Y-yeah… okay…”

“Good.”

Wilson’s anger and disgust were clear in his voice, but he seemed to be regaining control of the fit of temper that had seized him. Still, the soft, subtle threat in his words kept House tense and trembling as Wilson continued, not letting up on the painful, bruising grip he held on House’s arms.

“Now, we really don’t have time to talk about the stupid… freaking… bike right now, okay, House?” He bit off the words as if it made him physically ill to speak them, and House shook his head rapidly in acceptance. “There’s really nothing to talk about. You lied to me and basically stole from me – and tomorrow when your parents have left town, you’re going to make it right. That’s all there is to it.”

House nodded hurriedly, thoroughly intimidated by the quiet control in Wilson’s voice, even more than the violence of his actions.

“The fact that you lied to me, on the other hand,” Wilson continued, a deadly softness in his voice that sent a sick shiver of fear down House’s spine, “that may bear discussion.”

“I-I’m sorry,” House whispered, his voice trembling, as his thoughts went unbidden to the last time he had lied to Wilson, and the threats he had made. “Please…”

“Shut up.” Wilson’s voice was cold and commanding, leaving no room for argument. “We’ll deal with this later. Right now, we are going to dinner with your parents. We are not going to be late. You are going to get your ass in that bedroom and get dressed, and we are going to leave in the next ten minutes. Do you understand me?”

House swallowed convulsively, calming down somewhat as Wilson seemed to, even as the knowledge filled his mind that this was not okay – this was terribly wrong.

“Wilson…” he began in a soft, hesitant voice.

“Do not start with me, House,” Wilson snapped, his voice rising as he shook him slightly in warning. “We do not have time for this right now.” He backed off somewhat then, using his hold on House’s right arm to give him a little push toward the bedroom. “Go get dressed.”

Confused and bewildered and scared, and utterly unsure how to respond… House went and got dressed.

They were not late for dinner.

**************************

The revelation of House’s sexual orientation, as well as his relationship with Wilson, went about as well as House had expected.

His mother was mostly quiet, visibly in shock; but his father exploded in a rage, spewing out vicious insults and threats, not in any way impeded by the public setting – until a waiter approached the table and uncomfortably asked him to please keep his voice down as he was upsetting the other guests.

House was uncharacteristically quiet, still shaken from the incident before dinner, and Wilson ended up doing most of the talking. House had to admit that he was poised and eloquent and carried his side of the discussion with a dignity and certainty that made House proud for both of them.

Finally, it was clear that they were not going to make any progress in convincing John House to see the situation from their perspective, and that the only things he was inclined to contribute to the conversation were cruel words, mostly aimed in the direction of his son.

Wilson was angry, but maintained his composure, rising to his feet and declaring calmly that neither he nor House deserved that kind of disrespect, and they weren’t going to tolerate it. He told House’s father that when he was ready to speak to his son with some measure of civility and understanding, then they might try to discuss it again. With those words, he rose to his feet, reaching out a hand to help House to his feet and leading him away with a gentle but possessive hand on his arm.

House was even more confused after dinner than he had been before.

Wilson had passionately declared his love and dedication to House to his parents, leaving no doubt that he was committed to him and placed him and his wellbeing above all other priorities. In fact, during the course of the conversation, despite how badly it seemed to go, House thought that he began to understand why Wilson had been so insistent upon having it. Wilson’s fervent, devoted defense of him to his father was so much more than he had expected, and left him with a sense of warmth and love and belonging that he had never felt with anyone else.

And yet… he couldn’t forget the terrifying image of the same man, the man he loved, snarling in his face, his gentle hands becoming violent and grasping, replacing affection with pain and possession.

But… he loves me… he does… doesn’t he? He had a right to be angry. I did lie to him to get the money, and… and in a way he’s right that that’s… basically stealing it. He was stressed out over dinner tonight, and I did nothing but deliberately make it worse for him… if I hadn’t pushed him like that, he wouldn’t have snapped. It’s… not really his fault… But… but this is the second time he’s hit me, and… and he promised it wouldn’t happen again…

As the door closed behind them in their apartment that night, House felt a queasy, apprehensive sensation in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t help tensing as Wilson’s arms wrapped around him from behind, drawing him into an affectionate but possessive embrace.

House swallowed convulsively, his eyes falling closed as Wilson gently mouthed his throat. Strong hands found his waist and spun him around abruptly, pressing him up against the wall, though in a much different manner than he had done earlier that evening. Wilson grasped House’s wrists, pinning them near his head as he kissed him slowly, thoroughly, until House was breathless, gasping when at last Wilson pulled away.

“I love you,” Wilson murmured against his ear, withdrawing just far enough to meet House’s eyes.

“I… l-love you, too,” House whispered, helplessly aware that he meant it, no matter what the consequences.

No matter what Wilson did to him, how badly he hurt him – House couldn’t help loving him. He studied Wilson’s intense expression of passionate devotion and need, swallowing hard as his mouth suddenly felt dry, his heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. Something within him quailed when Wilson’s expression darkened slightly, and House saw the smoldering remnants of his anger in his eyes.

“You’re not going to lie to me again… are you, House?”

House shook his head, his eyes downcast, trembling under the oppressive power of Wilson’s close scrutiny. “No,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey… I’m sorry, too,” Wilson murmured.

A gentle hand tipped House’s chin up, encouraging him to meet Wilson’s eyes again. He did, reluctantly, with relief to find Wilson smiling again with warm understanding and affection.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…”

Wilson whispered soothing reassurance before leaning in to kiss him again, gently and with a tenderness that eased the tremors of apprehension that constricted House’s chest, silencing the alarms that had been sounding in his mind since earlier that evening. He gave himself over to Wilson’s advances, desperately drinking in the affection and comfort offered by his lover – willingly surrendering the doubts and fears that plagued him – for the moment.

House went to bed that night in the arms of his lover – but in the dark stillness of the night, it was harder to forget the more frightening memories of the evening. Desperately and hopelessly confused, in the wee hours of the morning, House finally managed to fall asleep, one desperate, pleading thought echoing in his mind.

It’ll be all right. I just have to learn how to act in a relationship… how to be honest with him and treat him like he deserves to be treated. If I can do that… if I can be what he needs me to be… then everything is going to be all right…

***************************

At lunch the next day in the cafeteria, House was surprised to see his mother heading toward him. He glanced at his watch, frowning uneasily, before instinctively scanning the area around her to see if his father had come with her.

Apparently, he had not.

She sat down across from him at the table where he was eating alone, reaching across it to gently place one hand over his.

“Sweetheart… I need to talk to you…”

House shook his head, his gaze averted. “There’s nothing to talk about. If you and Dad can’t handle the fact that I’m bisexual…”

“No, this… isn’t about that.”

House reluctantly looked up at her, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. Immediately his mother looked down, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, clearly uncomfortable with whatever it was she wanted to say. Finally, she looked up at him again, a troubled expression of concern in her eyes.

“It’s… James. Something about… the way he treated you last night…”

“What about the way he treated me last night?” House snapped, instantly defensive.

“I’m… not sure. He was just… very controlling. He barely let you get a word in edgewise, seemed to do all the talking for you, and… Greg… that’s just not you. You can’t possibly be happy with that sort of thing… being treated that way… can you?”

“Apparently you don’t know an awful lot about what makes me happy,” House reminded her in an icy, biting tone, staring down at his plate as he raised his fork to take another bite. The simple gesture was clearly meant as a dismissal.

House’s mother was not ready to be dismissed.

“What happened to your face? I noticed it last night, but… there was so much going on…” There was no mistaking the suspicion in her quiet words.

“I got it in a bar fight,” House replied without hesitation, not bothering to mask his irritation as he looked up with a cool smile to take in her reaction to those words. “Does that make you happy? To hear what a disappointment I am? Starting fights, getting into trouble like a kid? No, I bet it doesn’t, because nothing I do makes you happy, does it? Why can’t you just be happy for me, because for once I’m happy?”

Inwardly House cringed at the venom in his own voice, immediately overwhelmed with guilt for speaking to his mother in a way he had never spoken to her, not in his entire lifetime. After all, if she hadn’t noticed the fresh bruise on his cheek, he’d likely have inwardly reviled her for following her time-honored practice of intentional ignorance when it came to her son and the pain he so often managed to bring on himself.

At least this time she’s speaking up about it… I ought to be grateful…

Blythe House frowned, distressed by the turn the conversation was taking. “If I was sure that you are happy, honey…”

Alarm filled House’s mind at how near she was venturing to the painful truth, making his stomach lurch with fear, and he looked away from her abruptly, swallowing hard.

No matter what, she can’t know… she’d never understand… but she always knows when I’m lying… I just have to get her to go away… have to shut her down so hard that she’ll give up and go away, and I won’t have to worry about lying to her for another couple of years, anyway… I just have to get her to leave…

“Maybe it’s just because your own relationship sucks so badly that you can’t stand to think that mine is actually a good one.” House cut her off, a brittle smile on his lips that didn’t touch his eyes. “Or maybe it’s just that you wouldn’t even recognize happiness if you saw it at this point.”

He tossed his fork down onto his tray and rose to his feet, shrugging dismissively.

“Either way – I don’t see this conversation getting anywhere productive.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the door, adding, “You found your own way in.”

Without another word, he stalked away to dump his tray and leave the cafeteria, leaving his mother sitting alone at the table, watching him go through troubled eyes filled with concern. She sat there for a few moments, unsure as to what she should do, before finally deciding that at the moment there was nothing she could do.

If her son wouldn’t let her in, wouldn’t tell her what it was that he was hiding, then there was nothing she could do to help him. She had her suspicions as to the nature of the relationship he had gotten himself into with his best friend, but if he wouldn’t admit to anything, there was nothing she could do to prove those suspicions.

She could only help him if he would let her.

With a sigh of resignation, Blythe House rose and made her way out of the cafeteria and toward the waiting car outside.

She and her husband had a plane to catch.