The Note
Title: The Note
Author: Aileb42
Pairing: House/Wilson
Word Count: 560
Rating: PG
Summary: This is set after S6, for the “Camp Sick Wilson Random Items Challenge” at sick_wilson . The prompts are: construction pylon, the trunk of Wilson’s Volvo, a pen.
Disclaimer: Of course the characters belong to David Shore and company.
The Note
“Wilson!!!! Look out. Will you watch where you’re going? You just killed another construction pylon” House yelled.
Wilson jumped in his seat, and then quickly pulled the car back into the center of the lane.
“Wilson, what’s wrong with you?”
Wilson turned and glanced at House, then he turned back to the road.
“Nothing, I’m fine.”
“You sure don’t seem like you’re fine. Killing pylons, knocking over coffee, barely eating” House said. Then he glanced at Wilson, and turned around to look at the back seat of the car.
“And your car’s a mess too. That’s not like you either, something has to be wrong.”
“I’m fine” Wilson repeated flatly.
They drove in silence for a while. There wasn’t too much traffic, it was late on a Sunday afternoon.
“And why did you want me to come with you to your parents anyway?”
“No reason.”
“There has to be a reason. In all these years you only invited me over to your parents for holidays. It’s June, no holidays. So why now?”
Wilson glanced at House, then he quickly turned back to the road.
“House, I said there was no reason. I just thought they would like a visit from you.”
“Mmm” House muttered, but he didn’t say anything more.
It was an uneventful two days at Wilson’s parent’s house, just lots of good food, House wining the long checkers games, as always, and Wilson’s mom hovering over all.
“Where’s Sam anyway?” House asked for the twentieth time that weekend.
Wilson sighed. “She’s at a conference, in Chicago, just like I told you.”
“You broke up. Right?”
“No, House, we didn’t break up. I told you that” Wilson replied, without hiding the exasperation in his voice.
After that they drove in silence, and with no more near misses for the rest of the trip. Wilson pulled up to House’s apartment, then he leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes.
“Wilson? Something is obviously wrong, I can tell. What is it?” House asked, with real concern in his voice.
Wilson opened his eyes, glanced at House, then he silently took out a pen and a scrap of paper from his pocket. He quickly wrote something, shielding the paper from House’s curious eyes, and then he folded the scrap of paper into a tiny little ball.
Wilson then got out of the car, without a word, and he went back to the trunk of his car, took out House’s bag and walked up to the door. House watched him, then he got out of the car too, and limped up to join Wilson at the door.
Wilson put the bag down, then he reached over and quickly put the folded up scrap of paper in House’s left jacket pocket. Then still without a word, he literally ran back to his car, got in, and sped away. House stood there, watching him, till the Volvo was out of sight, He reached into his pocket and took out the scrap of paper.
House rolled it around in his hand, then he took a deep breath, and slowly unfolded it.
“No!!!” House yelled, out loud. He slumped down on the step, and sat there, staring at those words, written in that scribbly handwriting on the scrap of paper, now shaking with his hand.
“No, Wilson, no” House said, over and over again.
“No!”