Fandom Oneshots [Mainly Marvel, Sherlock, and Good Omens, and House MD]

House MD: (Swap AU!Hilson) "Fries"

So, one day, my convoluted mind decided it would be very fun to think up a whole Swap Personality!AU for the two idiots known as House and Wilson (Never mind that I can't write them normally).

Not everything is 100% swapped, but Wilson is now the cold and uncaring one (only on the outside) because he's the one who had to deal with the infarction.

But yeah, Wilson still in a big teddy bear on the inside, it just means he constantly has a mask of indifference (stone-cold) while House is still his Housian self but less miserable and in-pain. House is still extremely immature but just a bit more willing to show he cares.

Sorry for any mistakes. It's been a while since I've written anything and we don't beta in this "house," we die like men.

[「-」]

He gripped his cane with a hand that was whiter than his bedsheets; there was no blood running through his fingers. Readjusting them was a pain on his leg. He still wasn't over it. The infraction that occurred so long ago and yet every day he was reminded of it.

Somedays, he remembered his first thoughts when he woke up from it. 'Is this a punishment from God? A punishment for all the things I did wrong?' Although, even if it was, there was nothing he could change.

He limped towards the mirror, taking in the image in front of him. He looked so much different now to everyone and even himself; he used to have a spark in his eyes.

'Even during the night does the pond glow... but the icy barrier lets no light glitter.'

He readjusted his tie by fixing the Windsor knot in the mirror.

A neat wave of hazelnut chocolate brown hair slicked back to the point where there was no single hair out of place. Equally brown eyes, now sharp and glaring stared at the man in the mirror's fingers.

He fumbled a bit as he noticed the start of calluses of his right hand glaring right back at him.

He gingerly lowered his fingers onto the cane as his physical therapist showed him like retracing steps in the snow. Wincing in pain as he adjusted his steps, he leaned on his cane. He wondered how his rabbi would react to hearing all the words fumbling out of his mouth.

"Into the war," He told himself, murmuring into the car as he stumbled to get into the vehicle.

The moment he stepped into Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, the noise and bright lights distracted him from the pain but the sudden onslaught of work being handed to him was as irritating as the constant throb.

Nurse Catney, a new-comer, meekly handed him a folder with his name on it.

He raised an eyebrow in a perfect curve. "From Brown?" He asked without greeting her.

"Y-yes," She smiled tightly and he nodded before he left. Before, he would've taken the time to greet her personally in the hospital and introduce himself, but these days all he could focus on was making sure the department ran smoothly. No more meeting with patients even though that was what he was good at.

The nurses standing off to the side of the hallway murmured to each other as he limped past. He knew what they were saying. All those praises to his past self. The past self that met with patients and did treatments personally even though he was the head. The past self that flirted and complemented nurses constantly. The past self that didn't snap at everyone.

The one who wasn't in constant pain.

He breathed in a shuddering breath as he walked past with his limp. He had his head held high. No emotions on his face, only a neutral slate. Grey. Only a mask of grey stone.

He let his mask drop, crumble onto the ground, as he dropped into his chair. He stared at the folders. His head fumbled for a start to the couple hours he must spend on repetitive paperwork. It started off with some light snicks of the pencil as he checked things off as one of the only sounds other than his slightly labored breathing.

It was almost peaceful as his mind zoned into the black text layered like rows and columns of soldiers. The music of the clock and pencil were the only things to keep him company.

Until: "Wilsooooon!" A familiar voice shattered the quietness.

House .

'Goodness gracious,' he thought mildly before House slammed open the door. There was the surprise of him not shattering it based on how hard he chucked it open. "Guess whose team are a bunch of idiots!" House said as he slid on the opposite side of the desk. House's face was beaming brightly around the familiar smirk; his stubble became a frame for his pale lips that curved into the smug expression.

"I don't know," Wilson said in a monotone, still caught up in his paperwork. "Tell me."

"Aw, no fun," House mock-pouted. "You're buying lunch?" House looked like a hopeful child as he snatched Wilson's papers from him.

Wilson's eyes nearly shot out. "House—!" Wilson barely contained his shout. "Paperwork!"

House's smirk returned as he sang: "Lunch!" And then hopped onto his legs like a pogo-stick and bounded for the halls. Wilson got up gingerly by leaning against the arms of his chair as he shuffled up.

Wilson stared at the hall where House disappeared. "Lunch... sounds good..." Wilson muttered as he limped slowly towards the door while balancing on the walls.

No matter how irritated he acted, Wilson was always thankful that at least this little slice of life hadn't changed. There was still House's leeching off of his bank account through various food and his cocky expressions. Wilson was surprised to have realize he wanted those to stay.

It helped with the pain.

Juggling his leg, cane, and the glass door, Wilson made his way towards the cafeteria.

After Wilson paid for an excessive amount of fries, he barely let the tray clatter on the table when he sat down. Wilson stayed silent until House snuck a fry into his mouth. Wilson tried not to giggle as House snuck another.

House stared at his silent friend and then picked up some friends and placed them to Wilson's lips. Wilson blinked a couple seconds before he gently took them with his lips. It was surprisingly intimate for a man like House, but House was like that after the infraction.

House gave him another fry and Wilson felt a bit of warmth seep back into his heart. 'Yeah... lunch is good,' he thought with a small quirk of his lips and a fry in his mouth.