House-fic: Differential Detention
Title: Differential Detention
Author: Silver (silver@glasscases.net)
Website: http://silver.glasscases.net
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: FRT (teen) for some naughty talking
Word count: ~ 5,800
Warnings: mildly OOC at times perhaps, but it's all part of the story!
Disclaimer: The characters were created by David Shore. No profits are being made from this story.
Summary: When Wilson called House to bail him out of jail, he already knew he couldn't count on House to just let matters rest.
Written for the hw_fest to prompt # 12: House gets an urgent call from Wilson, who asks him to come bail him out of trouble - and jail.
Notes: I don't think goofy light-heartedness is my forte, but it was worth a try!
Thanks go to kribban, as always, for her endlessly useful comments and her unflinching willingness to be helpful and give this story a last minute beta when she'd rather go to bed. <3
Cross-posted like woah to house_wilson ( here), house_slash ( here) and, of course, hw_fest ( here).
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Differential Detention
by Silver
The ringing cut through the silence of the room. House jerked awake and looked around in confusion. Slowly, his mind cleared from the fog of sleep and he realized it was the phone. Considering for a second to just ignore it, he finally gave in and picked up.
"You better have a damn good reason to call," he growled into the receiver.
There was silence at the other end. He could hear the sound of people talking softly in the background and a familiar voice replying to it. Then he heard Wilson say, "House?" He sounded agitated.
House sat up and switched on the light. "What do you want?"
"House, I need you to come get me."
His eyes darted to the clock on his nightstand. 3:10. "What the hell? Can't you call a cab? Where are you anyway?" He rubbed his hand over his eyes, stifling a yawn.
Wilson sighed at the other end of the line. "Listen, I can't talk much longer. Please, you need to come and get me from… from the municipal building."
He was wide awake immediately. "The police station?"
"Yeah, thanks for the guided tour. Exactly there."
"What happened?" The talking in the background cut into their conversation again and he thought he could hear Wilson say something like "Yes, I know." House gripped the receiver more tightly. "Wilson?"
"I've got to hang up, House. Please come by quickly. And er… bring 500 bucks."
"In cash?" House asked incredulously. "I don't have…"
"I have to go, bye," Wilson interrupted him and the line cut off.
Listening to the dial tone, House rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He tossed the receiver back on the cradle and reached for the bottle of Vicodin. Knocking back a pill, he briefly debated just going back to sleep and see whatever was so important in the morning. But then he decided that he was just too curious about the entire thing and got out of bed.
Half an hour later, he was pulling up on the disabled parking space in front of the police station. Grabbing the Corvette from the garage in the backyard had lost him nearly ten minutes, because he had needed to dig up the keys from the depths of his desk and get to the garage first. Then he had needed to find an ATM and withdraw the requested 500 dollars.
Now, armed with the money and a good amount of well-deserved curiosity, House limped into the police station.
It was surprisingly busy for being so late at night. He waved at a hooker he recognized who was in the process of being booked. She flipped him the finger in response.
The officer at the reception desk looked at House as he approached, eyeing the cane warily. "Can I help you, sir?"
"I'm here to post the bail for Dr. James Wilson," House replied, having hardly believed he'd ever hear himself say these words. He signed all the necessary paperwork and handed over the cash. Then he waited at the entrance for Wilson to appear.
"You look like shit," House informed him when Wilson finally stepped out of the door ten minutes later.
Wilson's hair was in complete disarray. It looked like it had been wet recently. His tie was missing and he had spilled something on his shirt a couple of hours ago. "And here I was, thinking I was setting a new fashion trend," Wilson replied tiredly as he fell into House's step.
"What the hell happened?" House asked impatiently.
"I don't want to talk about it."
House stopped abruptly. "Now wait a minute. I've just forked over 500 bucks for you, buddy. That's 86 Reubens you could buy me. Plus tip! I think I deserve more information than that."
"You deserve a good kick in the ass, if anything."
Affecting indignation, House exclaimed, "You'd use physical violence against a cripple? On the parking lot of the police station no less. Wait till your bail bondsman hears about this."
"They'll be hearing a lot of other things, if you don't stop chewing me out," Wilson retorted grumpily as he stopped in front of the Corvette. "At least you didn't take the bike." He gave House an impatient look. "Can we go now?"
Crossing his arms in front of his chest, House lifted his chin defiantly. "My car, my rules. We're not leaving until you've spilled the beans."
Putting his hands flat against the hood of the car, Wilson returned his glance challengingly. "I told you I don't want to talk about it!"
"Fine." House lifted his hands in an appeasing gesture. "If you're not telling, I guess I'll just have to find out myself!"
Wilson pointed one finger at him, "Oh no, you don't…"
*******************************
The store was nearly empty. The shop assistant was busy tending patiently to an old lady who couldn't decide which hue of pink was more becoming to her wrinkled skin. With a satisfied smile, Wilson turned around and surveyed the surroundings.
The stylish interior design enforced the expensive impression of the store. It was the kind of place where Wilson liked to shop for clothes because they used elegant, not too extravagant designs paired with exclusive materials.
He wasn't really so sure what he was doing here right now. Maybe the frustration of sitting through yet another alimony negotiation with Julie had been enough to make him long for a treat just for himself. Something that Julie wouldn't take away from him, even though she was currently challenging him for half the toolbox from his garage. Never mind the fact that she's never used a single tool in her entire life
Pensively, he brushed his fingers across the silky fabric of the ties laid out on display. He'd bought some of them here before. But for some reason he didn't feel like doing that now.
Casting the assistant another furtive glance, he reached out for a dark purple silk cravat tagged $300 and slipped it into the pocket of his coat. He felt a rush of excitement course though his body as he looked around once more, realizing his action had been undetected.
In an attempt to not appear too suspicious, Wilson took a detour past the sweaters, looking at them with polite interest, before heading straight for the door.
The shrill beep made him freeze, his entire body turning cold. He spun around and saw everyone in the store look at him with icy disapproval. He turned once more, his eyes darting around for an escape route, but all he saw were the two security guards approaching him slowly…
*******************************
"Shoplifting?" Wilson asked, sounding somewhat tired and bored. "That's the best you've got?"
"It's a start."
Wilson rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like I'd get a kick out of nabbing random stuff from expensive stores."
House gave him a challenging look. "Well, it wouldn't be random and you get a rush out of the weirdest things. But you're probably right. You aren't anything like Winona."
Clearing his throat with dignity, Wilson said, "Good thing you know me so well. Just for the records though, Julie hasn't been interested in my tools for quite a while, thank you."
That merely caused a carefree shrug. "I'll keep that in mind for my next theory."
Wilson groaned in exasperation. "Oh God. You're going to continue this until I either tell you or you somehow stumble on the truth by sheer luck!" He leaned against the car. "That's going to take a while." A shudder went through his body. "Listen, can we at least sit inside the car? My shirt is damp and the wind is getting chilly."
House unlocked the car and Wilson slipped onto the seat gratefully.
"Of course you realize…" House drawled as he got into the car, "Now that you've insinuated I was merely guessing, I need to keep going, just to preserve my honor. Gregory House doesn't guess!"
"Oh please!" Wilson gave him an infuriatingly mocking look. "One: you guess all the time. Two: when's the last time you actually gave a damn about your honor." He made annoying air quotes. "Third: You'll never figure it out, so you might as well quit while you're ahead."
House's eyes narrowed to slits. "Why Jimmy. If I didn't know better I'd say you're encouraging me."
"Believe me. If there's anything I'm encouraging, it's for you to start the damn car and get me home."
Ignoring him, House put his hands on the steering wheel in a serene gesture. "So, how about this one."
*******************************
He cast another glance over his shoulder before approaching the young man standing at the corner of the street, smoking a cigarette. He had surveyed the situation for a while, making sure that he wouldn't pick the wrong one.
As he walked past the young man, hands buried deeply in the coats of his pocket, he cast him a tentative glance, hoping the other one would get the hint and accost him. He wasn't disappointed.
"Hey, mister. Looking for company?" the young man said, tossing his curly hair back.
Wilson stopped, looking left and right once more. "Maybe," he said softly. "How much do you charge?"
The young man flashed him a grin and extinguished his cigarette against the lamp post. "Depends on what you want. Hips or lips?"
Blushing furiously, Wilson retreated further into his coat. "Don't know," he mumbled. "Can't we just, er, go with the flow?"
The other man shrugged. "It's your money, bro. If you can't decide I'm gonna charge my full rate for one hour. Unless you need more?"
Wilson shook his head. "No, one hour will be enough." He had to force himself not to retreat when the young man stepped closer and whispered into his ear, "For fifty bucks I'll do anything you want."
Swallowing thickly, Wilson nodded. "That sounds good."
The other man took a step back again. "Then let's see it."
"What?"
"The money. I only do stuff when I get the money up-front."
"Er, can't we go to someplace else first?"
"And lose my spot when it turns out you don't have the cash? No way." The young man reached into his pocket to take out another cigarette from the packet. "Too bad, man, I'm really good at giving head," he said with a suggestive smile and stuck the cigarette between his lips.
Wilson licked his lips nervously. Then he reached for his wallet and took out a fifty dollar bill. "Here… I got the cash."
The young man grinned and reached for the money… and then everything happened really fast. Out of nowhere, a man in a black leather jacket jumped at Wilson and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back. He felt the cold metal of handcuffs on his wrists, heard the metallic click at they snapped shut.
He was yanked around and led towards a group of cops waiting. "Princeton police," the man behind him said as he pushed him forward. "You're under arrest for solicitation of prostitution."
*******************************
"Oh, come on!" Wilson exclaimed in exasperation. "Soliciting? With an underage hustler?" He pinched the root of his nose, taking a deep breath. "You don't really think I'd try to pick up a male hooker at some street corner, do you?"
House shrugged. "Hey, you never know. Maybe there are some things you can't get from me, some dark, unfulfilled desires that you don't dare to speak out loud…"
Wilson scoffed. "In your dreams." He shot House a fiery look. "Don't say it! I don't even want to know your dreams."
"Killjoy." House chuckled. Next to him, Wilson was still fuming quietly.
"How would you even get such an idea?"
"Well," House started with a grandiose wave of his hand. "It had to be something that was embarrassing enough that you wouldn't even want to tell me, your bestest buddy, about it. And it had to be an offense that would land you in jail…" He waved around with his hand, searching for words. "Okay, I just said it to throw you off."
Wilson lifted his hands. "Thank God!"
"You know, you could just cut the whole thing short…"
"Forget it. Not saying a word. This can only get worse."
"Fine, you asked for it!"
"Oh no…"
*******************************
Everything was completely quiet. The loudest sound had been the swooshing of the elevator doors as they had slid open to allow him to slip into the darkened corridor unnoticed. It had been a good thing that he had set the alarm clock to 2 AM. Although he knew that Clara was out of town, he didn't want to take any risks by having one of the other residents in the apartment building see him.
He stopped in front of the apartment door and took a deep breath. Then he reached into his pocket for the lock pick set he had borrowed from Foreman. It had earned Wilson a dubious look from the other man when he had asked him to explain how to open a door lock. He had claimed it was because he wanted to be prepared in case House sent him out to check out a patient's background story, but in reality his motivations hadn't been that noble.
It took him three attempts before the lock finally clicked and the door gave in. He released a sigh of relief and slid the lock pick back into his pocket. The apartment was dark and quiet, just as he had expected it to be. He crossed the living room towards the cabinet where he could make out the faint outline of video tapes stacked on top of each other.
Reaching for the pen light in his pocket, he picked up the first tape and inspected the label in the small cone of light. He felt a twinge of frustration when he had finished going through the entire stack and hadn't found what he'd been looking for. Rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully, he turned around, peering into the dark.
He knew this apartment well. Better than he cared to admit. Going home with the wife of a patient had been stupid, but what could you do when hormones started raging and the offer was too tempting to refuse?
Now he was in trouble, because this little fling had quickly turned into a full-blown affair of the psychotic kind, complete with frequent calls and hang-ups at his place and flower bouquets sent to his office with indecent cards attached. When he had tried to break it off, he had been told that as soon as he'd walk out of there, videos of him having sex with a patient's wife would be mailed to Cuddy and he didn't want to imagine how that would reflect on his reputation, not to mention his job.
He approached the bedroom. If he hadn't been so sure of everything going according to plan, he probably would have stopped and looked around once more before entering, noticing the extra pair of men's shoes lining up next to the door. But he hadn't and so he walked straight into an angry fist.
As he fell backwards and landed on his back, the impact knocking the wind right out of him, he looked up into the furious face of a stranger towering above him.
"What the fuck are you doing in my girlfriend's apartment?" the stranger yelled, clenching and unclenching his fists.
Wilson didn't answer. He still felt dazed from the blow he had received. Through his double-vision he saw the man reach for the telephone on the wall and call the police.
*******************************
"You think I'd cheat with some insane stalker chick who's obviously trying to start her own harem?" Wilson asked, incredulous.
House chuckled. "I find it interesting that you seem to be more upset about that than the Breaking and Entering charge."
"Well, that's obviously crap, but to think that you'd actually consider this was possible…"
Through heavy lids, House cast Wilson a measuring look. "Wouldn't be the first time you've gotten involved with the wrong people."
"Only when I wasn't seeing anyone at that time!" Wilson protested vigorously.
"Except for your wives."
Wilson paused, evidently deflated of his righteous indignation. "Er, I suppose, if you want to count that… either way! No, that wasn't it! Most definitely not!" He turned around in his seat, pointedly staring straight ahead. "If you could start driving now I'd be much obliged."
Hardly able to hide a grin, House tried to say as seriously as possible, "Well, I don't know… I still haven't gotten any closer to the bottom of this and I have to admit, it's driving me a little mad."
Wilson's eyes were shooting daggers at him. "You're driving me mad, too, so I think this is only fair. Now drive or I'll give them a real good charge to add to the report."
Chuckling to himself, House put in the gear and started the engine. "Feisty. You know I like that. Actually… that gives me another idea!"
*******************************
"You can't expect me to agree to this!"
Wilson stared at Julie, red hot anger pumping through his veins.
Returning his angry stare with cool dispassion, Julie turned to the fireplace and rearranged the logs with the poker. "I don't know why you're so upset, Jim," she said as she put the poker back in the rack and turned back to him. "I'm your wife, after all."
"Ex-wife!" he corrected her angrily.
She gave him a cool smile. "Not until the divorce is finalized." She walked around him with a sizing glance and went over to the small serving cart with the crystal bottles.
"Would you care for a drink?" she asked over her shoulder as she removed the glass stopper from the bottle that contained his favorite whiskey. He had brought the bottle home from a conference in Glasgow and had always enjoyed a quiet glass by the fire after a long day. When Julie had told him to move out he hadn't thought about taking the bottle along and now it was too late for that.
He declined with a curt nod and turned to the fireplace. Putting both his hands against the mantelpiece, he took a deep breath as he stared down into the flames. He had never felt so angry in his entire life.
"I think my demands are more than reasonable," Julie said behind him. He could hear the clinking of ice cubes falling into the glass.
"Considering you're the one who decided to end this marriage, who went out and started the affair with a colleague, I'm inclined to disagree," he said through gritted teeth.
"Oh, is that so?" she asked softly.
The mocking tone in her voice made him turn around and look at her with a frown.
"I'm thinking back to all those evenings where I was waiting for you, dinner slowly turning cold…" she said with a drawl, the bottle still dangling between her painted fingernails. "Then you'd stumble in late at night, smelling of beer and cigars. Appointments you've cancelled because you couldn't make it. Sudden calls late at night which ended with you getting dressed and leaving, no matter the time or weather condition."
Wilson blinked. "Are you suggesting I was the one who was having an affair first?"
Julie smiled at him coolly. "I'm not suggesting, I know."
Wilson snorted. "And who do you think the lucky lady was if you're so smart?"
Letting out a sharp laugh, she walked over to him and leaned against the mantelpiece casually. She put the bottle down next to her head. "Don't play dumb with me, Jim. Don't you think I know what's going on between you and that friend of yours?"
"House?" Wilson shrieked, his voice rising a pitch. "You think I was having an affair with House?"
"But of course, silly." She took a sip from her glass.
"I have never cheated on you with Gregory House," he proclaimed briskly.
Julie rolled her eyes at him. "Like you actually need to act on your physical desires in order to be unfaithful. You think I don't know that he is and always has been the most important person in your life?"
He wanted to say something in protest, but somehow the words wouldn't leave his mouth.
"Don't bother," she continued. "I really should have known better. The moment my mom met you she warned me that it would end like this. But I didn't want it to be true, didn't want to see what everyone else saw… that you're gay as a goose."
"You're wrong," he ground out, clenching his fist.
Julie shrugged. "Maybe I am, but it'll still make an excellent case in court. Can you imagine? Me, as the weeping, betrayed wife… 'Oh, it was terrible, your Honor. To know that your husband is sleeping with… with another man. I felt so deceived, so dirty. I was practically driven into John's arms. It was torture!' How do you think this will work on the judge?"
Staring at her in horror, Wilson exclaimed, "You can't be serious!"
Her smile turned cold. "Oh, I'm entirely serious, Jim. Especially since we both know that it's true. I don't think the judge will care that the pictures actually were taken after the separation. Those photos my P.I. shot of you through the window in a passionate embrace with a certain Gregory House speak for themselves."
Wilson just stared. "What do you want, then?"
The triumphant smile that appeared on her face made his anger flare up once more. "I want you to tear up the prenup and sign a new one. I want you to give in to all of my demands and not appeal in court. It would be best for both our careers. But yours in particular."
She clicked her tongue. "Just think about it. It's going to be a messy, messy divorce, Jim. I could imagine the press would just love this: the sordid little affair of the infamous Gregory House and the cancer luminary James W…"
The rest of her sentence was cut off when the bottle connected with the side of her head. It shattered against her skull and she dropped like a rag doll. Wilson stared at her motionless body at his feet, clenching the neck of the broken bottle with a shaking hand.
*******************************
The silence spread out once House had stopped the car and cut the engine. He gave Wilson an expectant look.
Taking a deep breath, Wilson finally said, " Murder? Now you're being absurd."
"I'm not a lawyer. Could be manslaughter, too."
Wilson rolled his eyes. "And they'd release me on a 500 dollar bail on the same night?"
"Again… I'm not a lawyer…"
"Shut up, House, you're being ridiculous." Wilson reached up and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "And this is the second time you're making Julie out to be some crazy bitch. I'll have you know that our separation was in fact quite amicable and she's not after my money at all. As a matter of fact, I think she's actually making more money than I am at the moment with her public relations firm."
"Noted."
Wilson gave him a pleading look. "Are you done tormenting me now?"
"You know you could just end this.."
"Oh please," Wilson whined. "Can't you have mercy with my poor hung-over brain?"
"Aha!" House shouted out, ignoring the way it made the other man wince. "So you've been drinking!"
Wilson sagged into the seat. "Oh geeze…"
Unfazed, House continued. "Obviously you weren't driving or else they would have taken your car, too. Your car is still parked at the hospital, you said, so maybe you never left there. Why would you be drinking close to the hospital? A little pick me up after work with colleagues that I wasn't invited to? A patient died and you needed to drown your sorrow? But why would that get you arrested? Hmmm…"
"You're not going to ease off, are you," Wilson said with resignation.
"Nope."
Wilson sighed deeply. "All right, all right, all right! Fine! I'm telling!" He spun around in his seat and stared at House with glittering eyes. "So you want to know what happened?"
"Yes!"
"Okay, here goes! But I get to do the CSI-flashback this time!"
*******************************
Wilson had just finished signing off the last reports when the door slammed open and Cuddy came barging into his office. Being used to incidents like this from House, he barely quirked an eyebrow as he looked up at the new arrival and said, "Can I help you?"
Cuddy pressed her lips together in a look of sheer exasperation, then she said, "We've got a problem."
Putting his pen aside, Wilson leaned back in his chair and asked, "We do? What problem?"
She hesitated for a second, wringing her hands. Then she burst out, "Someone needs to tell House something and I don't want to be the one who has to do it!"
Wilson frowned. "And why are you looking at me? I thought dealing with difficult employees was part of your job description."
Casting a look over her shoulder as if to make sure that they didn't have any unwanted eavesdroppers, she hissed, "Because you're the one who's sleeping with him. When you tell him something unpleasant he's less likely to make your life a living hell over it since you can at least distract him with… other things."
Wilson gave a forced laugh and raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "Oh no. Forget it! Last time you made me tell him about the board's decision to not approve his treatment he wouldn't give me sex for the entire week. As if it had been my fault! That was very frustrating. Just lower your cleavage some and tell him yourself!'"
With a pleading look, Cuddy said, "Please, James!"
"No!"
Her expression turned stern. "I could order you to tell him!"
"No, you can't! I'm pretty sure that would constitute as sexual harassment or discrimination or something."
Cuddy's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine." She turned to leave, but stopped at the door, giving him a calculating look. "You know, ever since you started this thing with House you've turned into such a wuss."
The comment hit home and Wilson sat up ramrod straight. "That is not true!"
Putting one hand casually against her hip, she replied, "Oh, please. You wouldn't do anything that would run even the faintest chance of upsetting House. He's totally got you by the balls. I bet you even do all the cooking and cleaning at home."
Wilson cleared his throat. "We're not living together." Yet, he had wanted to add.
"Only a matter of time, I'm sure. Has he bought you an apron yet?"
Slamming his hands onto the desk, Wilson got up abruptly. "Most certainly not!"
The grin on Cuddy's face intensified. "If you're so tough you really shouldn't be afraid to tell House one simple thing then."
Wilson's façade began to crumble. "Well…"
"Just as I thought." Cuddy turned to leave again.
"Oh, come on!" he called after her. "That's not fair! How am I possibly going to prove you wrong without indiscriminantly giving in to your demands?"
Cuddy made a show out of considering the options. Then she suggested casually, "How about this. You accept my challenge and we duke it out. If you win you'll never hear me say such a thing ever again. If you lose you have to tell House."
"What, you want to start throwing punches now?"
"No, silly. I think I know just the thing for you to prove your manliness to me. The guys over at pediatrics are having a party and I hear their Caipirinhas pack quite a punch."
Wilson groaned inwardly, thinking that this was going to be a lose-lose situation for him. Yet he found himself nodding. "All right, let's go then."
*******************************
"Okay, that doesn't explain anything!" House complained. "Your flashbacks suck."
"It told you most events of the evening," Wilson insisted defiantly.
"Yeah, everything except for the part that explains how you ended up in that cell together with hookers and drug addicts."
Wilson sighed in defeat. "Fine…"
*******************************
"James, I don't think this is a good idea…"
Under normal circumstances, Wilson probably would have agreed that standing knee-deep in a fountain in the middle of the night usually wasn't the textbook definition of a good idea, but after consuming copious amounts of alcoholic beverages his perception seemed to have changed.
"You don't? I thhhhhink it is." Everybody knew how hard it was to get wine stains out. Time was an important factor there. "It's fabulous!"
Cuddy put a hand against her hips and sighed. "Fabulous? Could you be any gayer?"
Wilson spun around, nearly falling over. "H-h-hey now! You said you'd ssstop saying stuff like that." He lifted one admonishing finger, but then stopped with a frown and squinted at his hand as if he had seen it for the first time just now. When did his hand start looking so weird? He swayed on his feet.
"Only if you win! And from the look of it I'd say it's pretty clear that I've won."
"Did not!" Wilson shouted.
"Oh, you have so lost." She gave him a benevolent smile. "If I had known you're such a cheap drunk I would have been easier on you. Just take your defeat like a man and get out of the fountain."
Crossing his arms in front of his chest defiantly, Wilson said, "No. I need to ffffffinish this."
Cuddy rolled her eyes at him. "Fine! If you want to catch pneumonia and die, knock yourself out. I'm going back inside."
He watched her leave. Scoffing in her general direction, he bent down to splash his shirt with water. That should do. He looked down on himself for a final check and noticed a rather unbecoming stain on his pants. With a sigh, he undid the buckle and dropped them. There, now the stain was sure to come off. The fabric pooled heavily around his ankles as it soaked up the water, and he tripped when he took a step backwards.
Sitting in the cold water of the fountain was strangely sobering. Holding onto the pipes for balance, Wilson pulled himself back into a standing position. Now where were his pants…?
The clipped howl of a siren made him freeze mid-search. He turned around and found himself pantless and face to face with a squad car and a very grim looking police officer.
*******************************
House had to force himself to not burst out in laughter.
"Yeah, I know," Wilson said with a defeated shrug. "The cop got out and… well, you know the rest."
Forcing the grin off his face, House said, "Okay, you were right. I never would have guessed that. Especially not the part where you lose a drinking contest against a girl!"
Wilson groaned. "I shouldn't have told you!"
Savoring Wilson's discomfort just a bit longer, House let the silence spread out between them just a bit more before he said, "So, what was this thing that you were both so afraid to tell me? Since you lost the drinking contest I assume you were going to tell me anyway. Might as well do it now."
Wilson hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "I suppose that's true." He turned to look at House. "They don't want you at the heads of department meetings anymore since you keep disrupting the order. There was a secret meeting where they passed the vote within five minutes and then spent the remaining 55 minutes discussing who had to notify you of the decision."
He scanned House's face for a reaction before continuing. "Apparently there was even talk of moving the weekly meetings to a secret location without telling you, but that idea was dismissed since they knew they'd have to at least notify me. And before you ask, no, I wasn't part of that particular meeting."
When House still didn't react after this, Wilson cleared his throat uncomfortably and mumbled, "Well, that's it."
House blinked. "That's it? That's the big news?"
"Uh, yes." Wilson's eyes narrowed to slits. "How come you're not upset at all? I still recall the big fuss you made over wanting to be included when they first introduced the idea of those weekly meetings! When Cuddy didn't want you there you even threatened to sue, claiming this was your 'God given right as the head of a very important department'. You've bugged me for weeks, asking me when the meetings were!"
House grinned broadly. "Yes, but that was only because I knew how very much everybody didn't want me to be included. It was fun for a while, switching the coffee from decaf to regular, hiding porn in file folders, interrupting with stupid questions and vetoing every decision just for the hell of it, but ever since people started checking their seats for whoopee cushions the fun has worn thin. Besides, they've started rerunning Gilligan's Island on Wednesdays now."
"So, you're not mad?" Wilson asked in a mix of surprise and relief.
"Hell no. Gives me a convenient excuse to stay away. But not before I've made it clear to them that it wasn't their decision, of course." He flashed Wilson a grin. "I have to admit, I do find it rather flattering that you'd go to such great lengths just to keep the sex. Didn't think I was that good."
Blushing furiously, Wilson muttered, "That wasn't the only reason…" He unbuckled and reached for the door handle. He froze when he noticed where they were. "This is your place. Why didn't you take me to the hotel?"
"My place is closer," House offered as an explanation.
"No, it's not!"
"Okay, then maybe I think I deserve some relaxation to help me go back to sleep after being so rudely awakened."
"Let's not dwell on the subject of what exactly you deserve," Wilson pointed out as he got out of the car. "Right now I just want to go to bed and… ooooh…" He leaned against the side of the car to steady himself.
House all but ignored his indisposition as he walked around the car to join him. "Besides, you owe me one after robbing me of the pleasure of crashing department meetings in the future."
"But that wasn't my fault!" Wilson protested weakly, hands clamped over his stomach.
House shrugged. "Well, you know what they say about the bearer of bad news…" He was interrupted when Wilson groaned, bent over and vomited all over his shoes. Looking at the mess in a mix of surprise and disgust, House paused for a second before continuing, "Or how about I just let you go to sleep and recover."
He gently reached out for Wilson's elbow and led him up the stairs and into the apartment. "In the morning I'll give you my patented hangover remedy and you can show me just how much you appreciate being in my good graces," he said as he halted in front of the bathroom. He leaned in, but stopped just before his lips met Wilson's. "But I think the thing you need the most right now is to shower and brush your teeth."
The End
Author: Silver (silver@glasscases.net)
Website: http://silver.glasscases.net
Pairing: House/Wilson
Rating: FRT (teen) for some naughty talking
Word count: ~ 5,800
Warnings: mildly OOC at times perhaps, but it's all part of the story!
Disclaimer: The characters were created by David Shore. No profits are being made from this story.
Summary: When Wilson called House to bail him out of jail, he already knew he couldn't count on House to just let matters rest.
Written for the hw_fest to prompt # 12: House gets an urgent call from Wilson, who asks him to come bail him out of trouble - and jail.
Notes: I don't think goofy light-heartedness is my forte, but it was worth a try!
Thanks go to kribban, as always, for her endlessly useful comments and her unflinching willingness to be helpful and give this story a last minute beta when she'd rather go to bed. <3
Cross-posted like woah to house_wilson ( here), house_slash ( here) and, of course, hw_fest ( here).
*******************************
Differential Detention
by Silver
The ringing cut through the silence of the room. House jerked awake and looked around in confusion. Slowly, his mind cleared from the fog of sleep and he realized it was the phone. Considering for a second to just ignore it, he finally gave in and picked up.
"You better have a damn good reason to call," he growled into the receiver.
There was silence at the other end. He could hear the sound of people talking softly in the background and a familiar voice replying to it. Then he heard Wilson say, "House?" He sounded agitated.
House sat up and switched on the light. "What do you want?"
"House, I need you to come get me."
His eyes darted to the clock on his nightstand. 3:10. "What the hell? Can't you call a cab? Where are you anyway?" He rubbed his hand over his eyes, stifling a yawn.
Wilson sighed at the other end of the line. "Listen, I can't talk much longer. Please, you need to come and get me from… from the municipal building."
He was wide awake immediately. "The police station?"
"Yeah, thanks for the guided tour. Exactly there."
"What happened?" The talking in the background cut into their conversation again and he thought he could hear Wilson say something like "Yes, I know." House gripped the receiver more tightly. "Wilson?"
"I've got to hang up, House. Please come by quickly. And er… bring 500 bucks."
"In cash?" House asked incredulously. "I don't have…"
"I have to go, bye," Wilson interrupted him and the line cut off.
Listening to the dial tone, House rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He tossed the receiver back on the cradle and reached for the bottle of Vicodin. Knocking back a pill, he briefly debated just going back to sleep and see whatever was so important in the morning. But then he decided that he was just too curious about the entire thing and got out of bed.
Half an hour later, he was pulling up on the disabled parking space in front of the police station. Grabbing the Corvette from the garage in the backyard had lost him nearly ten minutes, because he had needed to dig up the keys from the depths of his desk and get to the garage first. Then he had needed to find an ATM and withdraw the requested 500 dollars.
Now, armed with the money and a good amount of well-deserved curiosity, House limped into the police station.
It was surprisingly busy for being so late at night. He waved at a hooker he recognized who was in the process of being booked. She flipped him the finger in response.
The officer at the reception desk looked at House as he approached, eyeing the cane warily. "Can I help you, sir?"
"I'm here to post the bail for Dr. James Wilson," House replied, having hardly believed he'd ever hear himself say these words. He signed all the necessary paperwork and handed over the cash. Then he waited at the entrance for Wilson to appear.
"You look like shit," House informed him when Wilson finally stepped out of the door ten minutes later.
Wilson's hair was in complete disarray. It looked like it had been wet recently. His tie was missing and he had spilled something on his shirt a couple of hours ago. "And here I was, thinking I was setting a new fashion trend," Wilson replied tiredly as he fell into House's step.
"What the hell happened?" House asked impatiently.
"I don't want to talk about it."
House stopped abruptly. "Now wait a minute. I've just forked over 500 bucks for you, buddy. That's 86 Reubens you could buy me. Plus tip! I think I deserve more information than that."
"You deserve a good kick in the ass, if anything."
Affecting indignation, House exclaimed, "You'd use physical violence against a cripple? On the parking lot of the police station no less. Wait till your bail bondsman hears about this."
"They'll be hearing a lot of other things, if you don't stop chewing me out," Wilson retorted grumpily as he stopped in front of the Corvette. "At least you didn't take the bike." He gave House an impatient look. "Can we go now?"
Crossing his arms in front of his chest, House lifted his chin defiantly. "My car, my rules. We're not leaving until you've spilled the beans."
Putting his hands flat against the hood of the car, Wilson returned his glance challengingly. "I told you I don't want to talk about it!"
"Fine." House lifted his hands in an appeasing gesture. "If you're not telling, I guess I'll just have to find out myself!"
Wilson pointed one finger at him, "Oh no, you don't…"
*******************************
The store was nearly empty. The shop assistant was busy tending patiently to an old lady who couldn't decide which hue of pink was more becoming to her wrinkled skin. With a satisfied smile, Wilson turned around and surveyed the surroundings.
The stylish interior design enforced the expensive impression of the store. It was the kind of place where Wilson liked to shop for clothes because they used elegant, not too extravagant designs paired with exclusive materials.
He wasn't really so sure what he was doing here right now. Maybe the frustration of sitting through yet another alimony negotiation with Julie had been enough to make him long for a treat just for himself. Something that Julie wouldn't take away from him, even though she was currently challenging him for half the toolbox from his garage. Never mind the fact that she's never used a single tool in her entire life
Pensively, he brushed his fingers across the silky fabric of the ties laid out on display. He'd bought some of them here before. But for some reason he didn't feel like doing that now.
Casting the assistant another furtive glance, he reached out for a dark purple silk cravat tagged $300 and slipped it into the pocket of his coat. He felt a rush of excitement course though his body as he looked around once more, realizing his action had been undetected.
In an attempt to not appear too suspicious, Wilson took a detour past the sweaters, looking at them with polite interest, before heading straight for the door.
The shrill beep made him freeze, his entire body turning cold. He spun around and saw everyone in the store look at him with icy disapproval. He turned once more, his eyes darting around for an escape route, but all he saw were the two security guards approaching him slowly…
*******************************
"Shoplifting?" Wilson asked, sounding somewhat tired and bored. "That's the best you've got?"
"It's a start."
Wilson rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like I'd get a kick out of nabbing random stuff from expensive stores."
House gave him a challenging look. "Well, it wouldn't be random and you get a rush out of the weirdest things. But you're probably right. You aren't anything like Winona."
Clearing his throat with dignity, Wilson said, "Good thing you know me so well. Just for the records though, Julie hasn't been interested in my tools for quite a while, thank you."
That merely caused a carefree shrug. "I'll keep that in mind for my next theory."
Wilson groaned in exasperation. "Oh God. You're going to continue this until I either tell you or you somehow stumble on the truth by sheer luck!" He leaned against the car. "That's going to take a while." A shudder went through his body. "Listen, can we at least sit inside the car? My shirt is damp and the wind is getting chilly."
House unlocked the car and Wilson slipped onto the seat gratefully.
"Of course you realize…" House drawled as he got into the car, "Now that you've insinuated I was merely guessing, I need to keep going, just to preserve my honor. Gregory House doesn't guess!"
"Oh please!" Wilson gave him an infuriatingly mocking look. "One: you guess all the time. Two: when's the last time you actually gave a damn about your honor." He made annoying air quotes. "Third: You'll never figure it out, so you might as well quit while you're ahead."
House's eyes narrowed to slits. "Why Jimmy. If I didn't know better I'd say you're encouraging me."
"Believe me. If there's anything I'm encouraging, it's for you to start the damn car and get me home."
Ignoring him, House put his hands on the steering wheel in a serene gesture. "So, how about this one."
*******************************
He cast another glance over his shoulder before approaching the young man standing at the corner of the street, smoking a cigarette. He had surveyed the situation for a while, making sure that he wouldn't pick the wrong one.
As he walked past the young man, hands buried deeply in the coats of his pocket, he cast him a tentative glance, hoping the other one would get the hint and accost him. He wasn't disappointed.
"Hey, mister. Looking for company?" the young man said, tossing his curly hair back.
Wilson stopped, looking left and right once more. "Maybe," he said softly. "How much do you charge?"
The young man flashed him a grin and extinguished his cigarette against the lamp post. "Depends on what you want. Hips or lips?"
Blushing furiously, Wilson retreated further into his coat. "Don't know," he mumbled. "Can't we just, er, go with the flow?"
The other man shrugged. "It's your money, bro. If you can't decide I'm gonna charge my full rate for one hour. Unless you need more?"
Wilson shook his head. "No, one hour will be enough." He had to force himself not to retreat when the young man stepped closer and whispered into his ear, "For fifty bucks I'll do anything you want."
Swallowing thickly, Wilson nodded. "That sounds good."
The other man took a step back again. "Then let's see it."
"What?"
"The money. I only do stuff when I get the money up-front."
"Er, can't we go to someplace else first?"
"And lose my spot when it turns out you don't have the cash? No way." The young man reached into his pocket to take out another cigarette from the packet. "Too bad, man, I'm really good at giving head," he said with a suggestive smile and stuck the cigarette between his lips.
Wilson licked his lips nervously. Then he reached for his wallet and took out a fifty dollar bill. "Here… I got the cash."
The young man grinned and reached for the money… and then everything happened really fast. Out of nowhere, a man in a black leather jacket jumped at Wilson and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back. He felt the cold metal of handcuffs on his wrists, heard the metallic click at they snapped shut.
He was yanked around and led towards a group of cops waiting. "Princeton police," the man behind him said as he pushed him forward. "You're under arrest for solicitation of prostitution."
*******************************
"Oh, come on!" Wilson exclaimed in exasperation. "Soliciting? With an underage hustler?" He pinched the root of his nose, taking a deep breath. "You don't really think I'd try to pick up a male hooker at some street corner, do you?"
House shrugged. "Hey, you never know. Maybe there are some things you can't get from me, some dark, unfulfilled desires that you don't dare to speak out loud…"
Wilson scoffed. "In your dreams." He shot House a fiery look. "Don't say it! I don't even want to know your dreams."
"Killjoy." House chuckled. Next to him, Wilson was still fuming quietly.
"How would you even get such an idea?"
"Well," House started with a grandiose wave of his hand. "It had to be something that was embarrassing enough that you wouldn't even want to tell me, your bestest buddy, about it. And it had to be an offense that would land you in jail…" He waved around with his hand, searching for words. "Okay, I just said it to throw you off."
Wilson lifted his hands. "Thank God!"
"You know, you could just cut the whole thing short…"
"Forget it. Not saying a word. This can only get worse."
"Fine, you asked for it!"
"Oh no…"
*******************************
Everything was completely quiet. The loudest sound had been the swooshing of the elevator doors as they had slid open to allow him to slip into the darkened corridor unnoticed. It had been a good thing that he had set the alarm clock to 2 AM. Although he knew that Clara was out of town, he didn't want to take any risks by having one of the other residents in the apartment building see him.
He stopped in front of the apartment door and took a deep breath. Then he reached into his pocket for the lock pick set he had borrowed from Foreman. It had earned Wilson a dubious look from the other man when he had asked him to explain how to open a door lock. He had claimed it was because he wanted to be prepared in case House sent him out to check out a patient's background story, but in reality his motivations hadn't been that noble.
It took him three attempts before the lock finally clicked and the door gave in. He released a sigh of relief and slid the lock pick back into his pocket. The apartment was dark and quiet, just as he had expected it to be. He crossed the living room towards the cabinet where he could make out the faint outline of video tapes stacked on top of each other.
Reaching for the pen light in his pocket, he picked up the first tape and inspected the label in the small cone of light. He felt a twinge of frustration when he had finished going through the entire stack and hadn't found what he'd been looking for. Rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully, he turned around, peering into the dark.
He knew this apartment well. Better than he cared to admit. Going home with the wife of a patient had been stupid, but what could you do when hormones started raging and the offer was too tempting to refuse?
Now he was in trouble, because this little fling had quickly turned into a full-blown affair of the psychotic kind, complete with frequent calls and hang-ups at his place and flower bouquets sent to his office with indecent cards attached. When he had tried to break it off, he had been told that as soon as he'd walk out of there, videos of him having sex with a patient's wife would be mailed to Cuddy and he didn't want to imagine how that would reflect on his reputation, not to mention his job.
He approached the bedroom. If he hadn't been so sure of everything going according to plan, he probably would have stopped and looked around once more before entering, noticing the extra pair of men's shoes lining up next to the door. But he hadn't and so he walked straight into an angry fist.
As he fell backwards and landed on his back, the impact knocking the wind right out of him, he looked up into the furious face of a stranger towering above him.
"What the fuck are you doing in my girlfriend's apartment?" the stranger yelled, clenching and unclenching his fists.
Wilson didn't answer. He still felt dazed from the blow he had received. Through his double-vision he saw the man reach for the telephone on the wall and call the police.
*******************************
"You think I'd cheat with some insane stalker chick who's obviously trying to start her own harem?" Wilson asked, incredulous.
House chuckled. "I find it interesting that you seem to be more upset about that than the Breaking and Entering charge."
"Well, that's obviously crap, but to think that you'd actually consider this was possible…"
Through heavy lids, House cast Wilson a measuring look. "Wouldn't be the first time you've gotten involved with the wrong people."
"Only when I wasn't seeing anyone at that time!" Wilson protested vigorously.
"Except for your wives."
Wilson paused, evidently deflated of his righteous indignation. "Er, I suppose, if you want to count that… either way! No, that wasn't it! Most definitely not!" He turned around in his seat, pointedly staring straight ahead. "If you could start driving now I'd be much obliged."
Hardly able to hide a grin, House tried to say as seriously as possible, "Well, I don't know… I still haven't gotten any closer to the bottom of this and I have to admit, it's driving me a little mad."
Wilson's eyes were shooting daggers at him. "You're driving me mad, too, so I think this is only fair. Now drive or I'll give them a real good charge to add to the report."
Chuckling to himself, House put in the gear and started the engine. "Feisty. You know I like that. Actually… that gives me another idea!"
*******************************
"You can't expect me to agree to this!"
Wilson stared at Julie, red hot anger pumping through his veins.
Returning his angry stare with cool dispassion, Julie turned to the fireplace and rearranged the logs with the poker. "I don't know why you're so upset, Jim," she said as she put the poker back in the rack and turned back to him. "I'm your wife, after all."
"Ex-wife!" he corrected her angrily.
She gave him a cool smile. "Not until the divorce is finalized." She walked around him with a sizing glance and went over to the small serving cart with the crystal bottles.
"Would you care for a drink?" she asked over her shoulder as she removed the glass stopper from the bottle that contained his favorite whiskey. He had brought the bottle home from a conference in Glasgow and had always enjoyed a quiet glass by the fire after a long day. When Julie had told him to move out he hadn't thought about taking the bottle along and now it was too late for that.
He declined with a curt nod and turned to the fireplace. Putting both his hands against the mantelpiece, he took a deep breath as he stared down into the flames. He had never felt so angry in his entire life.
"I think my demands are more than reasonable," Julie said behind him. He could hear the clinking of ice cubes falling into the glass.
"Considering you're the one who decided to end this marriage, who went out and started the affair with a colleague, I'm inclined to disagree," he said through gritted teeth.
"Oh, is that so?" she asked softly.
The mocking tone in her voice made him turn around and look at her with a frown.
"I'm thinking back to all those evenings where I was waiting for you, dinner slowly turning cold…" she said with a drawl, the bottle still dangling between her painted fingernails. "Then you'd stumble in late at night, smelling of beer and cigars. Appointments you've cancelled because you couldn't make it. Sudden calls late at night which ended with you getting dressed and leaving, no matter the time or weather condition."
Wilson blinked. "Are you suggesting I was the one who was having an affair first?"
Julie smiled at him coolly. "I'm not suggesting, I know."
Wilson snorted. "And who do you think the lucky lady was if you're so smart?"
Letting out a sharp laugh, she walked over to him and leaned against the mantelpiece casually. She put the bottle down next to her head. "Don't play dumb with me, Jim. Don't you think I know what's going on between you and that friend of yours?"
"House?" Wilson shrieked, his voice rising a pitch. "You think I was having an affair with House?"
"But of course, silly." She took a sip from her glass.
"I have never cheated on you with Gregory House," he proclaimed briskly.
Julie rolled her eyes at him. "Like you actually need to act on your physical desires in order to be unfaithful. You think I don't know that he is and always has been the most important person in your life?"
He wanted to say something in protest, but somehow the words wouldn't leave his mouth.
"Don't bother," she continued. "I really should have known better. The moment my mom met you she warned me that it would end like this. But I didn't want it to be true, didn't want to see what everyone else saw… that you're gay as a goose."
"You're wrong," he ground out, clenching his fist.
Julie shrugged. "Maybe I am, but it'll still make an excellent case in court. Can you imagine? Me, as the weeping, betrayed wife… 'Oh, it was terrible, your Honor. To know that your husband is sleeping with… with another man. I felt so deceived, so dirty. I was practically driven into John's arms. It was torture!' How do you think this will work on the judge?"
Staring at her in horror, Wilson exclaimed, "You can't be serious!"
Her smile turned cold. "Oh, I'm entirely serious, Jim. Especially since we both know that it's true. I don't think the judge will care that the pictures actually were taken after the separation. Those photos my P.I. shot of you through the window in a passionate embrace with a certain Gregory House speak for themselves."
Wilson just stared. "What do you want, then?"
The triumphant smile that appeared on her face made his anger flare up once more. "I want you to tear up the prenup and sign a new one. I want you to give in to all of my demands and not appeal in court. It would be best for both our careers. But yours in particular."
She clicked her tongue. "Just think about it. It's going to be a messy, messy divorce, Jim. I could imagine the press would just love this: the sordid little affair of the infamous Gregory House and the cancer luminary James W…"
The rest of her sentence was cut off when the bottle connected with the side of her head. It shattered against her skull and she dropped like a rag doll. Wilson stared at her motionless body at his feet, clenching the neck of the broken bottle with a shaking hand.
*******************************
The silence spread out once House had stopped the car and cut the engine. He gave Wilson an expectant look.
Taking a deep breath, Wilson finally said, " Murder? Now you're being absurd."
"I'm not a lawyer. Could be manslaughter, too."
Wilson rolled his eyes. "And they'd release me on a 500 dollar bail on the same night?"
"Again… I'm not a lawyer…"
"Shut up, House, you're being ridiculous." Wilson reached up and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "And this is the second time you're making Julie out to be some crazy bitch. I'll have you know that our separation was in fact quite amicable and she's not after my money at all. As a matter of fact, I think she's actually making more money than I am at the moment with her public relations firm."
"Noted."
Wilson gave him a pleading look. "Are you done tormenting me now?"
"You know you could just end this.."
"Oh please," Wilson whined. "Can't you have mercy with my poor hung-over brain?"
"Aha!" House shouted out, ignoring the way it made the other man wince. "So you've been drinking!"
Wilson sagged into the seat. "Oh geeze…"
Unfazed, House continued. "Obviously you weren't driving or else they would have taken your car, too. Your car is still parked at the hospital, you said, so maybe you never left there. Why would you be drinking close to the hospital? A little pick me up after work with colleagues that I wasn't invited to? A patient died and you needed to drown your sorrow? But why would that get you arrested? Hmmm…"
"You're not going to ease off, are you," Wilson said with resignation.
"Nope."
Wilson sighed deeply. "All right, all right, all right! Fine! I'm telling!" He spun around in his seat and stared at House with glittering eyes. "So you want to know what happened?"
"Yes!"
"Okay, here goes! But I get to do the CSI-flashback this time!"
*******************************
Wilson had just finished signing off the last reports when the door slammed open and Cuddy came barging into his office. Being used to incidents like this from House, he barely quirked an eyebrow as he looked up at the new arrival and said, "Can I help you?"
Cuddy pressed her lips together in a look of sheer exasperation, then she said, "We've got a problem."
Putting his pen aside, Wilson leaned back in his chair and asked, "We do? What problem?"
She hesitated for a second, wringing her hands. Then she burst out, "Someone needs to tell House something and I don't want to be the one who has to do it!"
Wilson frowned. "And why are you looking at me? I thought dealing with difficult employees was part of your job description."
Casting a look over her shoulder as if to make sure that they didn't have any unwanted eavesdroppers, she hissed, "Because you're the one who's sleeping with him. When you tell him something unpleasant he's less likely to make your life a living hell over it since you can at least distract him with… other things."
Wilson gave a forced laugh and raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "Oh no. Forget it! Last time you made me tell him about the board's decision to not approve his treatment he wouldn't give me sex for the entire week. As if it had been my fault! That was very frustrating. Just lower your cleavage some and tell him yourself!'"
With a pleading look, Cuddy said, "Please, James!"
"No!"
Her expression turned stern. "I could order you to tell him!"
"No, you can't! I'm pretty sure that would constitute as sexual harassment or discrimination or something."
Cuddy's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine." She turned to leave, but stopped at the door, giving him a calculating look. "You know, ever since you started this thing with House you've turned into such a wuss."
The comment hit home and Wilson sat up ramrod straight. "That is not true!"
Putting one hand casually against her hip, she replied, "Oh, please. You wouldn't do anything that would run even the faintest chance of upsetting House. He's totally got you by the balls. I bet you even do all the cooking and cleaning at home."
Wilson cleared his throat. "We're not living together." Yet, he had wanted to add.
"Only a matter of time, I'm sure. Has he bought you an apron yet?"
Slamming his hands onto the desk, Wilson got up abruptly. "Most certainly not!"
The grin on Cuddy's face intensified. "If you're so tough you really shouldn't be afraid to tell House one simple thing then."
Wilson's façade began to crumble. "Well…"
"Just as I thought." Cuddy turned to leave again.
"Oh, come on!" he called after her. "That's not fair! How am I possibly going to prove you wrong without indiscriminantly giving in to your demands?"
Cuddy made a show out of considering the options. Then she suggested casually, "How about this. You accept my challenge and we duke it out. If you win you'll never hear me say such a thing ever again. If you lose you have to tell House."
"What, you want to start throwing punches now?"
"No, silly. I think I know just the thing for you to prove your manliness to me. The guys over at pediatrics are having a party and I hear their Caipirinhas pack quite a punch."
Wilson groaned inwardly, thinking that this was going to be a lose-lose situation for him. Yet he found himself nodding. "All right, let's go then."
*******************************
"Okay, that doesn't explain anything!" House complained. "Your flashbacks suck."
"It told you most events of the evening," Wilson insisted defiantly.
"Yeah, everything except for the part that explains how you ended up in that cell together with hookers and drug addicts."
Wilson sighed in defeat. "Fine…"
*******************************
"James, I don't think this is a good idea…"
Under normal circumstances, Wilson probably would have agreed that standing knee-deep in a fountain in the middle of the night usually wasn't the textbook definition of a good idea, but after consuming copious amounts of alcoholic beverages his perception seemed to have changed.
"You don't? I thhhhhink it is." Everybody knew how hard it was to get wine stains out. Time was an important factor there. "It's fabulous!"
Cuddy put a hand against her hips and sighed. "Fabulous? Could you be any gayer?"
Wilson spun around, nearly falling over. "H-h-hey now! You said you'd ssstop saying stuff like that." He lifted one admonishing finger, but then stopped with a frown and squinted at his hand as if he had seen it for the first time just now. When did his hand start looking so weird? He swayed on his feet.
"Only if you win! And from the look of it I'd say it's pretty clear that I've won."
"Did not!" Wilson shouted.
"Oh, you have so lost." She gave him a benevolent smile. "If I had known you're such a cheap drunk I would have been easier on you. Just take your defeat like a man and get out of the fountain."
Crossing his arms in front of his chest defiantly, Wilson said, "No. I need to ffffffinish this."
Cuddy rolled her eyes at him. "Fine! If you want to catch pneumonia and die, knock yourself out. I'm going back inside."
He watched her leave. Scoffing in her general direction, he bent down to splash his shirt with water. That should do. He looked down on himself for a final check and noticed a rather unbecoming stain on his pants. With a sigh, he undid the buckle and dropped them. There, now the stain was sure to come off. The fabric pooled heavily around his ankles as it soaked up the water, and he tripped when he took a step backwards.
Sitting in the cold water of the fountain was strangely sobering. Holding onto the pipes for balance, Wilson pulled himself back into a standing position. Now where were his pants…?
The clipped howl of a siren made him freeze mid-search. He turned around and found himself pantless and face to face with a squad car and a very grim looking police officer.
*******************************
House had to force himself to not burst out in laughter.
"Yeah, I know," Wilson said with a defeated shrug. "The cop got out and… well, you know the rest."
Forcing the grin off his face, House said, "Okay, you were right. I never would have guessed that. Especially not the part where you lose a drinking contest against a girl!"
Wilson groaned. "I shouldn't have told you!"
Savoring Wilson's discomfort just a bit longer, House let the silence spread out between them just a bit more before he said, "So, what was this thing that you were both so afraid to tell me? Since you lost the drinking contest I assume you were going to tell me anyway. Might as well do it now."
Wilson hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "I suppose that's true." He turned to look at House. "They don't want you at the heads of department meetings anymore since you keep disrupting the order. There was a secret meeting where they passed the vote within five minutes and then spent the remaining 55 minutes discussing who had to notify you of the decision."
He scanned House's face for a reaction before continuing. "Apparently there was even talk of moving the weekly meetings to a secret location without telling you, but that idea was dismissed since they knew they'd have to at least notify me. And before you ask, no, I wasn't part of that particular meeting."
When House still didn't react after this, Wilson cleared his throat uncomfortably and mumbled, "Well, that's it."
House blinked. "That's it? That's the big news?"
"Uh, yes." Wilson's eyes narrowed to slits. "How come you're not upset at all? I still recall the big fuss you made over wanting to be included when they first introduced the idea of those weekly meetings! When Cuddy didn't want you there you even threatened to sue, claiming this was your 'God given right as the head of a very important department'. You've bugged me for weeks, asking me when the meetings were!"
House grinned broadly. "Yes, but that was only because I knew how very much everybody didn't want me to be included. It was fun for a while, switching the coffee from decaf to regular, hiding porn in file folders, interrupting with stupid questions and vetoing every decision just for the hell of it, but ever since people started checking their seats for whoopee cushions the fun has worn thin. Besides, they've started rerunning Gilligan's Island on Wednesdays now."
"So, you're not mad?" Wilson asked in a mix of surprise and relief.
"Hell no. Gives me a convenient excuse to stay away. But not before I've made it clear to them that it wasn't their decision, of course." He flashed Wilson a grin. "I have to admit, I do find it rather flattering that you'd go to such great lengths just to keep the sex. Didn't think I was that good."
Blushing furiously, Wilson muttered, "That wasn't the only reason…" He unbuckled and reached for the door handle. He froze when he noticed where they were. "This is your place. Why didn't you take me to the hotel?"
"My place is closer," House offered as an explanation.
"No, it's not!"
"Okay, then maybe I think I deserve some relaxation to help me go back to sleep after being so rudely awakened."
"Let's not dwell on the subject of what exactly you deserve," Wilson pointed out as he got out of the car. "Right now I just want to go to bed and… ooooh…" He leaned against the side of the car to steady himself.
House all but ignored his indisposition as he walked around the car to join him. "Besides, you owe me one after robbing me of the pleasure of crashing department meetings in the future."
"But that wasn't my fault!" Wilson protested weakly, hands clamped over his stomach.
House shrugged. "Well, you know what they say about the bearer of bad news…" He was interrupted when Wilson groaned, bent over and vomited all over his shoes. Looking at the mess in a mix of surprise and disgust, House paused for a second before continuing, "Or how about I just let you go to sleep and recover."
He gently reached out for Wilson's elbow and led him up the stairs and into the apartment. "In the morning I'll give you my patented hangover remedy and you can show me just how much you appreciate being in my good graces," he said as he halted in front of the bathroom. He leaned in, but stopped just before his lips met Wilson's. "But I think the thing you need the most right now is to shower and brush your teeth."
The End