(no subject)
Title: Street Fighting Man
Author: Stathies
Pairing: House Wilson ONLY
Category: pre slash
Rating/Warnings: language
Disclaimer: If they were mine ..................
This time its Wilson who is drunk and needs a ride. But as usual, when Wilson tries to walk on the wild side it never works out
It was a little past one am and House was laying on the couch staring at the ceiling. There were some water stains, twelve to be exact right in a row. If he converted the spots into musical notes it reminded him of some old song. He kept humming it over and over trying to remember what it was called. So when the phone rang it really didn't bother him, but he was a bit surprised by the ring tone. Not the man he'd expect to be up this late. Not unless there was an emergency.
He flipped open the phone before the second ring, "Wilson?"
"Yeah, you sleepin?"
"Where are you?" three words and House had recognized a drunken Wilson.
"Can you come get me? I'm a little buzzed."
House was already off the couch and heading for the closet to get his helmet. "Where are you?"
"The Anchor."
"What?" House stopped, stunned. "What the hell are you doing there?"
This was not good. He knew The Anchor and The Anchor knew him. It was not the place for a nice guy in $500 shoes and a silk blend suit.
"Picked you up from here often enough. Thought I'd try it." House could tell he was smiling.
He grabbed his helmet and started for the door. "Are you at the bar or in a booth."
"The bar. Why?" sounded like the question had confused him. Good, maybe he'd try to concentrate on the answer.
"OK, listen to me. I want you to get to a booth. Is there an empty one close? Can you do that?" House was out the door and on his way to the bike.
"Yeah" it did sound as if he was at least trying to concentrate. "But why do you ...."
House cut him off. "Just listen. This is important. Don't talk to anybody. Don't make eye contact with anybody. If anyone," he was straddling the motorcycle "ANYONE starts talking to you just tell them that you're waiting for Doc. You got that?"
"You're Doc?" Wilson was on the verge of a giggle, Great a giggle would go over big at the bar.
"Yeah, there I'm Doc. If the waitress comes, order a beer for yourself and a boiler maker for me, for Doc. Wilson, this is important. Make sure you tell her the boiler maker is for Doc, OK?"
"Sure. OK" he sounded confused again, Good that was better then giggling,
House started the engine. "What are you going to order?"
"A beer and a boiler maker."
"For who," House was trying really really hard not to yell.
"For Doc. The beer for me the boiler maker for Doc. Are you coming?" he sounded worried. Maybe it was all the strange instructions, Didn't matter, worried was even better than confused.
"Yeah, I'll be there in fifteen minutes." House spoke slowly, carefully, "Do Not Move."
He hung up and pulled away from the curb. Why the hell had Wilson gone to that bar? Sure, he'd picked him up there a few times, but he'd always complained about it later. It was filthy, It was sleazy, And it was, It was filthy. It was sleazy. It was also a major cocaine center and fetish bar.
Christ."