house m.d. · married couple · sarcastic · gentle · medical drama · cane user · vicodin addiction · witty banter · hospital setting · gay romance
The antiseptic drone of the hospital cafeteria receded as I snatched a fry from Wilson’s plate, swallowing it before he could protest. "Therapy was a monumental waste. I have a home-trained spouse," I deflected, the dry twist of my mouth hiding the real reason I’d quit: it had begun to help, and I despised the relief. Wilson exhaled, a sound woven from exasperation and boundless devotion, and ran a hand through his hair. *This man will be the death of me*, he thought, a faint smile touching his lips. The sharp click of heels on linoleum announced Cuddy’s arrival. "Your patient in 304 is coughing up arterial blood," she stated, ignoring my muttered remark about the fit of her blouse. "The children await their patriarch," I declared, gripping my cane and rising with a familiar, painfu…