#hilson fanfic
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I'd Make a Deal With God (I'd Get Him to Swap Our Places)
for a prompt from @gaylilsherlock
When Wilson receives his terminal diagnosis, House flees to the hospital chapel. He doesn't know how to pray, but he strikes a deal: his soul for Wilson's life.
When Wilson goes into remission, he has no choice but to uphold his end of the bargain.
In which House learns nothing about God, but everything about worship, in the arms of his husband.
Read on AO3!
#house md#hate crimes md#house fanfic#hilson#house x wilson#james wilson#greg house#gregory house#hilson fanfic#fanfic
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Come in from the Cold
House/Wilson established relationship
Written based on a prompt from @griffin-11
This wasn’t what I was expecting to write when I got the prompt, but it’s what happened!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The bite of early January always sinks into his bones in a way he can’t shake. The trip from the car to the apartment takes twice as long as it does in other seasons, lest he slip on the icy ground. No amount of complaints to the building’s management about the state of the steps in the wintertime have any effect. They insist the stairs are perfectly passable, which may be true for the even footed but are treacherous to his uneven gait.
Snowflakes flutter to the ground, fluffy and large, adding the existing two feet of snow already on the ground. For a moment he remembers winters from a decade ago. When weather such as this would mean a trip to upstate New York, to a ski resort where he and Wilson would spend weekends on the slopes. Wilson skied, but he always prefered snowboarding. He liked the speed, the balance it required, the feeling of the wind burning his cheeks as he hurdled towards the bottom of the hill, the satisfaction he got from safely reaching the bottom of the difficult hills, having dodged trees and other obstacles the whole way down. But those days are long behind him now, and the memory stings almost as much as the cold.
Every second spent outside is painful, as even his long wool coat can’t protect the crater in his thigh from the sub-zero temperatures. A mess of missing muscle and over sensitive nerve endings, the cold burns bright hot. He limps heavily up the few stairs into the building, doing his best to strike a balance between speed, safety, and keeping pain to a minimum. When he finally breaches the threshold into 221 Baker Street he lets the door fall shut behind him, and leans on it heavily.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
He grips his thigh tightly, desperately trying to rub the stiff burning from what remains of his leg, as the mantra plays in his mind. Wilson always tried to get him to breathe through the pain. He always argued that it was new age bull crap, right up there with auras and chakras. Breathing wouldn’t regrow this missing muscle, breathing wouldn’t fix the damaged nerves, and breathing certainly wouldn’t get rid of the mangled mess of partially numb, partially hypersensitive scar tissue that marred his right thigh. Still, he tries. Wilson doesn’t know he tries when Wilson isn’t around, and he always gripes when Wilson makes him try, but he tries all the same because that’s what people in relationships do. They try.
When the breathing mumbo jumbo doesn’t work he reaches into his pocket to pull out his Vicodin bottle and dry swallow two of the white, chalky tablets. The bitter taste promises some relief, though he knows it will only do so much. His leg will take hours to warm up, and only then will the pain reduce to its usual daily level. He really hates Winter.
Sucking a breath through his teeth he limps slowly towards his door, pausing to pull out his keys he can hear the puttering sounds of Wilson moving about their now shared apartment. He was unsure about Wilson moving in, his one and only stint with cohabitation had been with Stacy, but had since found it was not completely terrible. It was nice not being alone all the time, and Wilson was probably the only person in the world he could stand to have around all the time, though he’d never say that out loud.
When he enters the apartment Wilson pops out from the kitchen, smiling fondly.
“Oh wipe that look off your face. You saw me three hours ago.” He scoffs, shucking his coat and letting it fall to the ground.
The apartment smells like Wilson’s cooking. The living room is tidy in a lived-in sort of way. Wilson is dressed in sweats and his McGil sweatshirt, but is barefoot. The entire scene is so warm and domestic it warms his heart and makes him nauseous in equal measure.
“What? A guy can’t look happy when a handsome man walks into his home?” Wilson asks, arms crossed.
“Sure he can. He just can’t look happy when an old, misanthropic, cripple walks into his home.” He shoots back.
“Oh right. I always confuse those two.” Wilson smiles, leaning on the door jam and throwing the dish towel he had been holding over his shoulder.
House managed to remove his shoe from his right foot, but as he shifts his weight onto his right leg and cane to remove his left he has to stop, a pained noise slipping unbidden past his lips as pain shoots through him. Wilson is beside him in an instant, one hand on his back and the other on his chest, ready to support his weight should he need it.
“Hey hey hey, what’s going on?” Wilson asked gently.
“Stupid cold weather. Cripples don’t do well in the cold.” He grumbled, not meeting Wilson’s eyes.
“Alright well let’s get you off your feet. You're inside now, so the pain should lessen up soon, yeah?” Wilson tried to encourage.
Wilson knew the cold bothered him, but House had never really been clear to what extent. He weighed his options now, agreeing that he would soon feel better and spend the rest of the evening trying to hide his pain or admitting that the cold made things worse than he’d let on. On the one hand he could keep a little bit of his dignity, but would likely end the evening fighting with Wilson over something stupid. On the other hand Wilson would enter full caring mode, and spend the evening doting on him, and that always gave him a weird feeling in the bit of his stomach.
“It… takes a while for my leg to warm up. Damaged blood vessels and nerves. I thought you were a doctor? Just, let me go to bed.” He grumbled, staring at the floor.
“Wouldn’t a hot bath help? Or at least a heating pad?” Wilson reached out to rub circles on his shoulder.
“No. Too much heat at once makes it worse, just let me go to bed, dammit!” He snapped, and it seemed that his honesty still resulted in a stupid fight.
Wilson said nothing, but supported his weight from the door to the bedroom. As soon as House was seated on the bed he turned and left. With a deep sigh House stripped down to his boxers and climbed under the blankets. He winced when he swung his right leg onto the mattress, pain shooting down into the rest of his leg. He closed his eyes, naming infectious diseases in alphabetical order in an attempt to distract himself to sleep. His leg was killing him and he had a pissed off boyfriend in the other room, sleep was truly his best option at this point.
He’s just starting to get through the B’s when the bed dips behind him.
Wilson has stripped down to his boxers as well, and is carrying what appears to be every blanket they own in his arms. He begins pulling them over the bed, over the lump of House’s body. Creating heavy layers that aren’t at all unpleasant.
“What are you doing?” House asked, trying to sound annoyed.
“Warming you up.” Wilson replied.
“Then why are you practically naked?”
Wilson just smiles, and as the last blanket is smoothed out over the bed he slides underneath them, curling his body around House’s. Wilson radiates warmth, and House can admit it’s nice, though it will be awhile before the heat sinks into his leg. He’s about to say as much when Wilson places one large, warm hand over the scar on his leg. The body temperature heat isn’t enough to aggravate the nerves, but is enough to soothe them. Wilson runs hotter than House, apparently just enough hotter that his body can provide a small amount of relief to his painful leg.
“How's that?” Wilson asked, breath tickling the hairs on the back of House’s neck.
“It’s fine. Weren’t you doing something when I got home?” House questioned, pretending not to enjoy having his boyfriend as his personal heater.
“Nothing that can’t wait. Nothing more important than this.”
House feels strangely choked up. He hates when Wilson does this to him. He shouldn’t be getting emotional over a cuddle session in bed, no matter how much it helps his pain. He opts to say nothing, but feels Wilson smile against his skin regardless.
“Go to sleep, House.”
The pressure of the blankets, the feeling of Wilson’s body against him, and the warmth of his hand radiating into his scarred thigh have his eyes feeling heavy. He slips into sleep with the sound of Wilson’s breathing as a lullaby.
#housethemd writes#house md#james wilson#hate crimes md#greg house#hilson#dr house#dr wilson#wilson x house#house/wilson#gregory house#house md fanfiction#hilson fanfic
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Truth or Dare (Is It True You Care?)
(8556 words) by subtlehysteria
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: House M.D.
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Gregory House/James Wilson
Characters: James Wilson (House M.D.), Gregory House, Remy "Thirteen" Hadley
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, House M.D. Season/Series 06, Episode Fix-it, Feelings Realization, Love Confessions, more like love confrontation, because this is House and Wilson we're talking about, Friends to Lovers, Oblivious James Wilson (House M.D.), Wingman Remy "Thirteen" Hadley, how I wish the truth or dare conversation went, and the result of that conversation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Wilson has a mild panic attack, House's leg acts up, they take care of each other, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Fade to Black
Summary:
“Truth,” he says. He doesn’t want to think about how she might top her previous dare. Although, at the look of that mischievous, dare he say House-ian glint in her eyes, Wilson starts to second guess his choice.
Thirteen leans across the table, voice pitched low and serious as she asks her question.
“How long have you been in love with House?”
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hilson fanfic is making me wish i was loved my good lord
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Hiya, how are you all?
I posted the 4th chapter of my House M.D. fanfic the other day. Feel free to go and give it a read if you would like to. I hope you enjoy it and the darkness it is dripping in.
I hope you are all having a wonderful day! xx
#house md#hilson#james wilson#gregory house#greg house#house#hate crimes md#house md fanfic#fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic writer#writer#I am writing#house fanfic#Hilson fanfic#whump#hurt/comfort
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about to go honkshoe sleepytime but before I do! here! chapter 6 of ITWCT is out! <3 if u wanna read it.............
#not art#hilson#house md#hilson fanfiction#house md fanfiction#hilson fanfic#lucradiss#lucradiss fics
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: House M.D.
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Gregory House/James Wilson
Characters: James Wilson (House M.D.), Gregory House, Lisa Cuddy, Sam Carr (House M.D.)
Additional Tags: Getting Together, Fuckbuddies, Friends to Lovers, Miscommunication, Jealousy, First Kiss, Anxiety Attacks, james wilson has a chronic anxiety condition, he is so babygirl, James Wilson Loves Greg House, Idiots in Love, But also, idiots to lovers, basically haha im in love with u, lets have no strings attached sex for months instead of a single conversation, Pre-Canon, Marriage Proposal, Weddings, ahh the tragedy of being gay and having anxiety, in 1994, a mild sex scene, its not supes explicit tho
Series: Part 1 of bastards in love
Summary:
They had been sleeping together for all of three months when Wilson realised he’d fallen in love with House.
(a companion piece for just enough of a bastard to be worth liking, set 10 years prior to that fic)
#house md#house x wilson#hilson#house m.d.#greg house#gregory house#james wilson#wilson x house#house/wilson#lisa cuddy#my writing#fanfic#house md fanfic#house fanfic#hilson fanfic#fanfiction#mine!
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Rating: Explicit
Characters: House, Wilson, minor appearances of Cameron, Foreman and Chase
Pairing: Hilson
Warnings: Mild exhibitionism
House and Wilson are enjoying the last day of their holiday when an urgent call comes through from Princeton-Plainsborough - a medical mystery that only House can solve.
And he does intend to solve it, despite Wilson's best efforts to distract him.
Welp. Here it is. Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.
#hilson#house md#gregory house#james wilson#house x wilson#wilson x house#hatecrimes md#my fic#my art#bbb creates#house md fanfic#hilson fanfic#pwp
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im currently 4k words deep into my third hilson fanfic and i have no idea what the fuck is going on, so far they had totally gay sex and now they’re diagnosing two patients at once with two different diseases that im just freeforming in my mind by spinning the symptoms and my wikipedia knowledge in my brain
the only thing i know about this particular fic is that it started as my take on the “wilson answers house’s phone in the middle of the night” prompt i saw on ao3 [x] and now is just. them being boy besties while house is stupidly horny for his husband
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guess what?? i finally have a fic update for y'all. it was supposed to be a 2k chapter and a 1k chapter, but instead it's a 4k word chapter and a 1k chapter oops
also I have healed from debilitating vaccine side effects! that means you, in relatively short order, get 2-4 more chapters to get us through s5e1, and then I go off-grid for a hot minute to rewatch s5e2-4.
Ch 5: Rehab Yellows
What's a little medical malpractice in the name of post-stroke skill recovery? The team takes on a case without House, House screws with the team, and House's speech therapist screws with him—mostly benevolently.
Ch 6: Liminal Blues
Wilson finds out about House's bp spike causing increased ICP. He isn't going to make his self-imposed deadline for moving out of Amber's apartment.
#house md#house md fanfic#fanfic#hilson#hilson fanfiction#house md fanfiction#hilson fanfic#remy thirteen hadley#remy thirteen hadley fanfic#gregory house#james wilson#lawrence kutner#lisa cuddy#eric foreman#robert chase#chris taub
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Chapter 10 of the Wilson Lives!AU is posted.
Read it here!: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50930980/chapters/138480460
“House!” This time, Cuddy snapped it at him.
“What?” he sneered.
“His vitals. Look. Pulse is up by fifteen, systolic is up by ten.” Then, she sucked a short breath through her teeth. “He’s crying.” The tears were hot on his cheeks. He couldn’t blink them away; he couldn’t move his eyelids at all. “Oh, Wilson.” The frame of the bed shifted slightly, like she rocked her weight against it, but she still didn’t touch him. “Do you still think he can’t hear you?”
#house md#hilson#house x wilson#james wilson#greg house#fanfic#house md fanfic#hilson fanfic#robert sean leonard#hugh laurie#hate crimes md
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One Life For Another
(What if Amber had been the one to survive the bus crash instead of House? Snapshots of Wilson’s life after House. Wilson/Amber, eventual House/Wilson. Just read and you’ll understand.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Where’s House?”
Amber asks, shortly after her eyes open. Wilson smooths back her hair, thinking she’s just confused, concussed.
“Shh, you were in a bus crash. You’ve been unconscious for nearly 24 hours. You’re going to be okay though.” He reassures her, kissing her forehead.
“Where’s House?” She repeats.
That’s how they find out House was in that crash too. He’d forgotten his wallet at the bar, so he’d been taken to Princeton General as a John Doe. That’s why Wilson only got the call about Amber.
When Wilson gets there, House only has a few hours left. The damage is too extensive. He’d need multiple organ transplants to save him, and he qualifies for none of them because of his addiction. Conceptually, Wilson knows that House would be unlikely to survive regardless.
Amber checks herself out of PPTH AMA, refusing not to be at her boyfriend's side. House is in and out of consciousness, the high doses of Morphine he’s being given make him drowsy.
It’s 3am when House wakes up for the last time. He’s surprisingly lucid, and Wilson knows what that means. He’s seen it time and time again in his patients. It’s like the universe grants them one last chance to say their goodbyes, to make their peace.
“Always knew I’d go first.” House’s voice is rough and quiet. Wilson has to lean in close to hear him.
“Me too, I didn’t think it would be quite so soon though.” Wilson laughs through his tears.
“On the contrary, I think I’ve lived longer than I was supposed to.” House says.
Wilson knows he’s talking about the infarction. He always knew House felt he should have died then, but Wilson always tried to reassure him that it obviously wasn’t his time, and besides, misanthropic bastards are supposed to live forever, aren’t they?
“Oh Greg.” Wilson is starting to shake as he fights the urge to break down.
“S’okay Jimmy.” He soothes.
“Cut throat bitch.” He addresses Amber now.
“Yeah House?” She’s wiping her own tears away, watching someone die is always hard, especially when it’s someone your loved one loves so much.
“Take care of Jimmy for me, okay?”
She finds she can only nod.
They all know it’s time. No one wants to say it, but they all know.
“I love you, Greg.” Wilson says, squeezing House’s hand and leaning close.
“Love you too, Jimmy. You’ve been the bestest friend a fucked up guy like could have asked for.”
Wilson can’t respond through the sobs. House’s eyes are glassy and unfocused. Wilson leans his face on House’s shoulder. His friend is dying.
“See ya, boy wonder.” The words are drawn out and slow, as House says them with his last breaths.
The monitors alarm as House flatlines. Amber rubs circles on Wilson’s back as he sobs loudly into his dead best friend's shoulder.
———————
Wilson gives the eulogy at House’s funeral. It's an open casket. House’s parents had his body dressed in a dark gray suit with a white shirt and a black tie. Wilson hates that they put House in a tie. House always hated ties. They should have put him in a blue shirt, not a white one. He always looked best in blue, it brought out his eyes. Not that you can see his eyes now.
He talks about how House was a healer, how many lives he’d saved that no one else could. How he cared about people, but only when no one was looking. How much he’ll miss, how much he misses him.
He sobs quietly as they lower the casket into the ground. He doesn’t want to make a scene, but if he’s leaning heavily on Foreman, no one says anything about it. Amber never lets go of his hand.
Blythe comes up to him and thanks him, “For being such a good friend to Greg.” He thanks her, tells her that her son was a very special man. He doesn’t know how to tell her that for everything he did for House, House did just as much for him.
——————
A year goes by.
Amber encourages James to talk about House. She knows how important that relationship was to him, and she never wants him to feel as though she’s forgotten. She doesn’t want him to think she expects him to forget.
They buy a house in the suburbs. It has three bedrooms, a large backyard, and a massive living room. It’s perfect for housing a baby grand piano. Despite the fact neither of them can play it, James keeps it.
He kept all of House’s instruments, they were all incredibly important to House and James couldn’t bear to see them go; there was so little that was truly important to House. But while the guitars get put away in cases and stored, James wants the piano displayed. After the movers had left, James just stared at it for a while. Eventually he said,
“He used to play for me when I’d ask. He was quite talented. It was… nice.” Before he went back to unpacking boxes.
Three months after they move into their home, they go out for a night on the town and James gets down on one knee. She says yes, but also says she won’t change her name. No way will she be the fourth Mrs. Wilson.
That night she wakes at 3:30am to an empty bed and the occasional sound of piano keys. She pulls on the shirt James discarded when they tumbled into bed before she creeps just far enough down the stairs to be able to hear him without being seen.
“I missed you a lot today. I asked Amber to marry me. She said yes, but she’s keeping her name. Thinks ‘Mrs. Wilson’ is cursed or something. I know you’d agree with her.”
There is the sound of piano keys being played randomly.
“It won’t be the same. Getting married without you there. I know it’s silly, I’ve done this three times before, but it’s a big day and I wish I could have my best friend by my side.”
Amber creeps back up the stairs. She’s happy James talks to House. She knows his therapist suggested it, and she’s glad to see he’s listening.
——————
Their wedding is small. They end up not doing wedding parties because James can’t bring himself to have anyone but House as his best man. Amber doesn’t mind. At the reception they light a candle “for those who couldn’t be with us” but it’s really just for House.
———————
Eighteen months after their wedding Wilson is standing in one of the PPTH delivery rooms.
“It’s a boy!” The doctor doing the delivery announces.
As Amber dozes that night, Wilson cradles the small bundle that is his son. He looks down at him with awe. The birth certificate sits next to him on the side table, signed by both him and Amber. It reads:
Michael Gregory Wilson-Volkais
He’d been worried about asking Amber to name their son after House. But she’d only smiled at him, and said she thought Gregory made a lovely middle name.
———————-
“Dad, who’s that with you in all the pictures?”
Michael is ten, and they are flipping through a photo album Amber just completed. She insisted they include pictures from before they met, because she was in her mid thirties and he was in his early 40’s when they met, meaning they both had a hell of a lot of life before each other.
“That’s your Uncle Greg.” Wilson answers, as they all stare down at a collage of images of himself and Greg.
“But I thought you only had two brothers, Uncle David and Uncle Danny.” Michael says, confused.
“Greg wasn’t my brother. We met at a medical conference when I was 28, and after that he was my best friend.”
“If he’s your best friend, why haven’t I ever met him?” Michael questions.
Wilson lets out a deep sigh, putting his arm around his son.
“Because he died, Buddy. Before you were born.”
“Oh.” Michael hangs his head, clearly feeling bad. The boy was cursed with his father’s empathy.
“It’s okay. It’s nice to talk about him. Did you know you’re named after him? Your middle name ‘Gregory’ is after your Uncle Greg. Gregory was his full first name.” Wilson tells him.
Michael thinks that’s pretty cool, and they move on to other pictures in the album. That night however, Wilson sits down with a glass of scotch and the album. He sips his drink and reminisces about the moment each picture captures, and all ones that weren’t captured on film.
———————-
At sixty-five Wilson lies in a hospital bed. His wife of twenty-three years is on one side of him, and his twenty-one year old son is on the other. Dying of cancer isn’t how he pictured his life ending, but having family around him makes it somewhat bearable, or maybe that’s the morphine.
He hates to leave his son so early, but that’s the danger of having kids later in life he supposes. Michael is only in his last year of his undergraduate degree - premed. He wants to be an oncologist like his old man. Wilson wonders if watching him die of cancer will change his mind.
He’s said his goodbyes, and slowly light and sound fades away. Strangely, or maybe not, his last thought is not of his wife or son, but of Greg House.
See you soon, old friend.
———————
“Wasn’t expecting to see you for another twenty years at least.”
He recognizes that voice. As he slowly opens his eyes he realizes he recognizes his surroundings too. It’s a forest in upstate New York. He and House used to go backpacking here. They’d spend weekends camped out, cooking everything over their campfire and sleeping side by side in sleeping bags in a two person tent.
He finds the source of the voice seated on a tree stump, and there he is.
“House.” Is the only word he manages.
“In the flesh. Well not really, but you know what I mean.” House smiles and laughs.
He looks like he did the night they met, dark hair and unshaven face. Jeans and a band t-shirt under a leather jacket. Wilson looks down at himself and realizes he’s similarly dressed, his own jeans and McGil sweatshirt. He touches his face and realizes he’s also back to the age he was that night.
“I missed you.” He tells House. It’s true. He didn’t realize how much until right now.
“Come on Jimmy, walk with me.”
House takes him down a narrow path that leads them to a small lake. Wilson remembers it from their camping trips. The only difference is now there is a small cottage next to it.
“So, what have you been up to?” House asks. Like they aren’t dead, like this isn’t some strange afterlife they find themselves occupying.
“Not much. Married Amber. Had a son. Named him Michael Gregory, after you.”
They stare at each other for a moment before bursting out into stomach aching laughter. After they finally stop they wrap their arms around each other in a tight hug. They never hugged much when they were alive, but now it feels right.
“What got you?” House asks softly in his ear.
“Cancer.” Wilson tells him.
“Wow. That’s… ironic.” House says as they pull away.
“Yeah. Yeah it is.”
They make their way into the cottage. House will give him a tour of it, and when the sun begins to set in their version of heaven they’ll lay down together in one bed without question.
In life they never seemed to get things right, and then their time together was cut short.
In death they’ll get it right.
#apparently we are doing sad angst today guys#i promise I’ll give you something happy tomorrow#house md#james wilson#hate crimes md#greg house#hilson#dr house#dr wilson#wilson x house#house/wilson#amber volakis#wilson/amber#house md fanfiction#hilson fanfic#amber/wilson fanfic
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this is so me.
#shipping culture is my life style#johnlock#cherik#lawrusso#butchie#tomgreg#jwight#merthur#shelnard#destiel#stormpilot#finnpoe#nandermo#stony#hannigram#hilson#swanqueen#spirk#this is my life i guess#fanfic#fanfiction#meme
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Jimmy's his hubby 🥺🥺🥺
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I have posted chapter 3 of my House M.D. fanfic now. It is over 7000 words long (and 22 pages on my google docs document), and is set during season 1 episode 4 (Maternity). I hope you enjoy it.
I also hope you are all having a wonderful day! xx
#house md#hilson#james wilson#gregory house#greg house#house#hate crimes md#fanfic#ao3#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#ao3 reader#house fanfic#house md fanfic#Hilson fanfic#hilson fanfiction
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Dude please tell me about ur amnesia house fic?????????? I wanna know more???
I'll talk more about it in 2 parts!! First will be just general info about updating and after will be just. little fun things to tie you over
First! I will have an update out soon. My beta and I are in the throes of finals season and we're working hard to get everything done. I am writing mostly as a cool-down right now and have another fic that I'm writing in my free time that requires less manpower than The 5 W's. The next update should be out very soon-- 4.5 is being beta'd the minute I can get Rocky (my beta) to look it over!
Chapters will, however, come a little slower after that point. I am finishing school then immediately going home to visit my parents and introduce my boyfriend to my family, so I likely won't be doing much writing. I have a lot of book 5 written, but it needs tweaking and adding-onto, so it's nowhere near done. So chapters for that will be slow, but hopefully consistent.
Now for the fun!
House's amnesia is used primarily as a narrative device. It's not at all indicative of how amnesia works in the real world. He's completely functional both as a person and as a doctor, but has lost all interpersonal memory-- that is definitely not how amnesia works, and I know that. I'm not a doctor!! I'm an author!! and the world is what I make it!! That being said I thought it'd be really funny to have House forget all the media he's ever watched or consumed as well. Bro does NOT know Prescription Passion he gets to re-experience it!!!
House's prosthetic leg (as in my fic, if you haven't read it, he cuts his leg off) is black with red and orange flames, just like his cane. He and Cuddy cut off all his pants and hemmed them so that he could show off his bitchin' prosthesis, so he walks around the hospital like he owns the place.
He and Cuddy have weekly movie nights that they very strictly adhere to! They watch movies, old and new, because House doesn't remember them at all due to his amnesia. He's getting back to his quoting pop culture ways, albeit slowly.
House's tastes in food have not changed! He loves shitty Chinese and pizza, but now that he doesn't really know what he likes, he's trying a lot of new stuff. Anything foreign around, he'll try it. He's having fun with it.
If there's any questions you have about the series or about the characters, please shoot them my way whether it be in DM's or in my inbox. I'm happy to talk about this fic or any others that I have!
#not art#hilson#house md#hilson fanfiction#house md fanfiction#lucradiss asks#lucradiss fics#hilson fanfic#The 5 W's
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