A/N: All right. I couldn't resist the idea. But if House/Wilson are a teeny bit OOC at the end, please don't mind it. My muse handed this over, and I couldn't say no to him.
WARNING: I am blatantly going to ignore the whole 'Amber Arc'. But, other than that, this fic is pretty present-day.
By: Hadley, of BK
Disclaimer: Would you believe me if I said my name was David Shore? Ha. Of course you wouldn't. So, would you really believe me if I said I owned House?
Crack!
The sound resounded loudly in his office. Wilson lifted his now throbbing head off of his desk slowly, fatigue evident in his features. And perhaps something more. No, change that. Obviously, something more.
Today was the worst day of the year.
Today was Valentine's Day.
Wilson hated today. Because he remembered.
Julie was beautiful…in every sense of the word. She made him happy. And now she was gone.
But she wasn't even like the others. He hadn't left her. She hadn't found out he had been cheating.
No. She was cheating on him.
It was a horrible feeling. He had loved her. Really loved her, not some sort of 'Get into my pants,' ritual. He didn't just want her for the sex. Not like Cameron…she treated Chase like he wasn't a person, like he was a machine set up for her enjoyment. And Wilson sympathized. Chase didn't deserve that. But this was different. They had married. He had thought she was perfect.
Well, apparently she didn't think the same of him.
House was undoubtedly having as bad a day as Wilson. In fact, he was probably having worse. He'd fellowed Cameron, remember. And now that she was gone, his office was much less perky. But, despite the fact that she now worked in the E.R., Cameron wasn't one to give up without a fight. Wilson smiled at the thought. He'd bet anything that House's office was decorated in pink and red hearts. House's new fellow, Kutner, no doubt fed her fire. Ha.
Do you remember Bonnie? She was nice, too. I loved her, Wilson thought. But that one was his mistake, his fault. She'd divorced him, and he had no argument when they divorced. But he still liked her. Besides. Loved, past tense. No more…right?
Love is cruel. It's most certainly not patient, and damn! Not kind by a long shot.
His head sat back down on the desk. He was tired. There was no reason to work, to strive to do anything. It was all wrong. Messed-up. Ugh.
Childish screams reverberated through the hallway and into the young oncologist's office. Wilson laid his arm over his head to block out the noise. Poor kid. By the length of her shriek, the child was getting a bone marrow biopsy. Ouch.
Light—too bright. At least it seemed that way to Wilson. Lately, the Princeton weather had been dreary and slushy. Today, however, the sun had managed to push out from behind the clouds to shine for a little while. The oncologist winced. Rays of sun hit his desk and bounced into his eyes. He shut them tightly.
His ears were ringing, and the screaming had ended a while ago. Headache.
Migraine!
He drew the shades shut. Good. The room was silent. Better.
A piercing ring echoed through the room, tearing it's way into Wilson's consciousness and ripping it to shreds. His pager. Wilson resisted the impulse to throw the plastic annoyance out the window where it would unsafely crack into a thousand, satisfying pieces, and instead glanced down at the cloudy grey screen.
Wilson: I need lunch money.
Oh. Wow.
Many things rushed through Wilson's head at once, most of them involving muzzles, poison, and country music.
There is no way I'm giving him money again. But when I don't, he'll come here looking for it. I have to leave, before he gets here.
It was much too early to go home, so actually leaving the hospital was out of the question. He'd have to make a couple—hundred—visits to his patients' various private rooms. You know, just to see how they are doing. And maybe stay awhile. Play a few board games. All of the above.
So Wilson left, swinging as fast as he could through the door of his office and the hallways beyond it. Fast enough to escape without being seen. but too fast to notice someone slip into his office as the door swung shut, and poke around. Almost as if they'd planned on him leaving. Hmm. Suspicious.
It was 3:14. James Wilson could now proudly announce that he had won 2 games of kid-monopoly…and lost 6. Played 15 games of checkers, a round of hopscotch, and watched Barney with one of his younger patients.
But he'd also successfully escaped House's lunch-money maneuver.
Actually, he'd only planned on staying half-an-hour. Just enough time to evade House and be back. But, when he thought about it, Wilson didn't have any paperwork to do, and his clinic duty was all squared up. And playing with his patients was so much fun.
He walked valiantly into his office. Nothing left to do for the day, except maybe schedule an appointment for the Deland woman. But that wouldn't take too long.
His desk was…touched. There was nothing openly wrong with it, but Wilson could tell it was not as he'd left it. Hmm.
Suddenly he found it, 'it' being the offending items. An open desk drawer and a misplaced square of post-its. Sitting on his chair. The note on top had writing on it, written in a familiar scrawl with a black pen.
Yo mamma says Porn-n-Pizza at my house. Bring beer.
Wilson smiled. Then he shuffled his hand around in his pocket for some change. Just enough change to buy a lunch.
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day, readers! Hope you liked it.