48 Hours
Introduction
"Damn it, House, you always have to do this," Wilson said, yelling at his friend as he showed him the extra pills he had taken. "I give up with you!" Wilson shouted.
This was bad, this had to be one of the worse fights they had ever had and House knew there was no fixing it, at least, not this time. House stared at his friend in shock, "Why, Jimmy, don't get yourself all in a rut," he said slurring his words a bit. It was overdose number two. House had taken too many pills shortly after he found out about Wilson and Amber. What did Wilson expect exactly? It wasn't like House was going to change, not for him anyway.
"I expected you to at least attempt to be happy for me," Wilson threw up his hands in disgust. "Instead you try and end your life by overdosing?" he asked him. "Yeah, that's mature, House, very mature," he said and he took the Vicodin. "I'm cutting you off of your Vicodin, I'm not going to be your supplier anymore."
That was the last straw. House was furious and he stepped over to Wilson and got into his face. "Damn it, you can't do this!" he said angrily. He looked completely furious and outraged. "I need the pills, they're how I get through the day, pain free, or at least, halfway pain free," he said to Wilson, "And now that you're hanging around cutthroat bitch I have no one to talk to," he said angrily, "So don't blame the damned pills for your mistakes!" he said and nearly pushed Wilson over.
Wilson looked at his friend in shock, "My mistakes? Yeah, because you're so perfect, House. You never made a mistake in your entire life, gosh, I wish I could be you," he said, rolling his eyes sarcastically.
"What are you doing?" he asked when Wilson was going to House's secret stash of pills.
"I lived here for half a year, you think I don't know where you hide your stashes?" he asked. "I'm taking them, telling Cuddy you need to go to rehab, and we're done with this," he said to his friend. If he could even call him that anymore.
"You have no right!" House said to him angrily. He limped after him and tried to grab the pills, Wilson ran towards the door, "This is not your decision!" he said.
"It is House!" he said. "You won't listen to me, as a doctor or even as a friend, so maybe you'll listen if I take away what's most precious to you," he said. "I'm tired of watching you throw your life away," he angrily put the pills in his pockets.
House limped over to the door and nearly socked Wilson in the jaw. Wilson looked alarmed, and hurt, mentally hurt more then physically. "You hit me," he said. It was merely a tap, House had missed the full force, but he had attempted. Wilson's eyes widened and he started to go out the door, "Yeah, clearly the drugs have no hold over you," he said, sarcastically.
"Drop dead," House said to him angrily. He looked hurt, alone, and scared at the same time. Wilson knew he was thinking of the withdrawl pain.
"You first," Wilson snapped angrily at House and he walked out the door.
House was fuming. They had never fought this badly, ever, except maybe during the whole Tritter escapade, but even now…things were bad. House stared at Wilson as he left, then he went over to his dresser and pulled out his last stash of Vicodin and put it in his mouth. He sighed and closed his eyes as he sat back on the couch. At least he had his pills.