AN: This is going to be a three shot guys. All centered around the car and the HW relationship. Kind of slash (as you will see in upcoming chapters) but it's also centered on their intense friendship so you can ignore the slash if you'd like.

The first chapter serves as an introduction. The other two chapters are decidedly heavier and more action-packed: post-infraction road trip, a lot of angst and a few realizations. I've already written them up but I'd like some feedback first. Keep in mind that this is just the intro if you do review but also know that I'm very open to constructive criticism. Please, please drop a line. You're all writers and you know how much feedback helps in editing upcoming chapters.

"Sell the Volvo?" House cried from the couch, cheeks engorged with Chinese food, "why don't you just carve my heart out of my chest and invite everyone to have a drunken rave on it?"

Wilson knew this was going to be hard. House liked the Volvo. House didn't like change. Of course House hated the idea of selling the Volvo. In response, the only thing he could do was to knead the back of his neck and reassure him, "I'm buying another car. A better one."

Still shoveling noodles into his mouth from an oil-soaked white box and eyes glued to the TV, House grunted his disapproval. "You don't need a better car," he huffed, "seriously, if you have too much money on your hands I'm here for you."

Wilson turned to the sink and scrubbed away at a particularly stubborn oil stain on the plate at the very top of the pile. It had been House's turn to do the dishes, of course, but the wildlife growing on their plates had finally brought Wilson to surrender.

"Good to know my money's going towards feeding hungry children," he said with a contemptuous and mildly amused glance towards the boxes of Chinese takeout.

House grinned in his direction, "now that I think about it, this whole "new car" thing can be good."

This caused Wilson to abandon the dishes and whip around in surprise. No way House had just surrendered. There was a clause attached and he didn't want to know what it was. Nonetheless he invited House to divulge the rest of the thought process with an arch of his brows and a movement of his hands to his hips.

"Well, when we bought the Volvo I felt like a kid in an amusement park. Car shopping will be fun," House continued, "I'm thinking something a little more bold this time, you being star oncologist and everything. Maybe a Corvette? With a rad sound system bro'?" he said in a sarcastic imitation of teenage boys, fist raised for a sarcastic fist bump.

Here came the hard part. Wilson had tried not to think about it. He knew this was betrayal, "Umm…actually I think I'm gonna look for a new car with Sam."

House's fist dropped to his side. There we go. Keep it light and casual and he'll think nothing of it. But this was House and of course he thought something of it. He thought everything of it. He thought more of it than Wilson himself, probably.

Somewhere between Wilson selling the Volvo and Wilson buying a new car with Sam, House had forgotten about food. The containers of food were heaped on the coffee table now, the TV on mute. He had House's diagnostic mind dedicated entirely to himself. Great. House was wearing the evil smirk that signaled an epiphany.

"This wasn't your idea," he smirked, realization all over his face, "that wouldn't make sense because you love the Volvo as much as I do. This was her idea. She thinks it's a piece of junk and since your number one need is to satisfy the needs of whoever you're with…" House didn't finish the sentence but his expression read: "Q.E.D. Point proven."

Deflated, he returned to the dishes so he could escape the discomfort of House's scrutiny. He was right of course, it had been Sam's idea not his. "I've wanted to get rid of it for a long time," a weak defense, he knew, so he listed more possible reasons, "it's old and outdated, I've had it forever, I spend a fortune on repairs, the only reason I've kept it for so long is that I'm just used to it—"

"Are you sure you're still talking about the car?" House joked, indicating himself. His tone was good humored but there was the slightest edge to his voice that suggested the joke was merely a Trojan horse for his true thoughts. The expectant look in the blue eyes confirmed this theory. There was a note of desperation there.

How dare you, he wanted to scream at him, how dare you suggest that? How dare you think that? How dare you question our friendship? He wanted to shake the thought out of him.

But that sort of display of emotions didn't fly in "House land". Instead decided to leave the dishes and walk into the living room.

"Yes House, the car is clearly a metaphor for you," he delivered the joke in a deadpan and then sprinkled some sarcasm on top, "twenty years of constant nagging didn't get rid of you but I'm hoping that if I offer the car as a sacrifice, the heathen gods might make you disappear into thin air."

They smiled at each other in appreciation but he could see from House's expression that his answer had been wrong. House turned back to the TV, turned up the volume (the volume on The L Word nonetheless) and said the one word that Wilson had hoped he would say but realized he hadn't wanted to hear: "Okay."

"Okay?" Wilson echoed, dumbfounded.

"Okay," House affirmed.

"Okay?

"Oooh! Are we playing that game where you say everything I say with a question mark at the end?" House spat with a roll of his eyes, "okay, go buy a car with Sam," he provided casually.

He stood there, behind the couch, feeling like someone had just kick boxed all the air out of his lungs by serving a hard blow to his gut. Something snapped and House knew it too because he turned around to assess the damage.

Wilson had seen nagging House, disapproving House, self-sacrificing House, mutinous House and "you'll regret this later" House. But never had he ever seen I-don't-care-about-what-you-do House. He'd figured they would bicker for a while until either House gave him his reluctant consent or he agreed to take House along on the car-buying trip.

"Let's face it Wilson," House said coolly and it scared Wilson not because he hadn't heard worse from House but because he looked like he meant it: "you're a grown man and you can buy a car without your male best friend putting you in time-out. Go buy a car with Sam."

Then he turned back to the TV and turned the volume higher still to indicate that the conversation was over. Wilson stood, still confused, staring at the back of House's neck and almost begging for the sarcastic, judgmental gaze now.

A second passed, and then two or three. Wilson thought he'd been standing there for a whole minute, urging House to turn around, hoping now more than ever that they shared some sort of telepathic communication. Had all of this been over that stupid car? The Volvo, the keys to which were in his pocket right now. He felt the sharp, squiggly edge against his thigh. He'd used it before to get his mind off of things. He drove around like a madman after the infraction, after divorces two and three, after Amber, after Mayfield but not for a while now. Oh well, never too late to go for a drive.

"I'm going for a drive," he announced in a last desperate attempt to get a reaction from his friend and walked out of the apartment, out into…the rain. "Well, too late to go back for a jacket now", he walked to where he had parked the car. He walked slowly and let the rain soak him through. He felt that the miserable downpour was oddly appropriate for his mood and knew that voicing that opinion would earn him a roll of the eyes and an "Oh! Please!" from House. He stopped in front of the Volvo and contemplated the piece of crap that had started the whole conversation. "House is right," he sighed, "what's new?"

House was right. He loved the old piece of crap. Down to its very last newly detailed, regularly repaired and still run-down stitch. And he also knew why House was making such a fuss. No matter how much he played dumb, he knew. It had been the first thing they'd bought together and while buying it they had realized for the first time that they were best friends.

The Volvo had played host to an alarming number of road trips, a good many more number of fights, a few odd moments best forgotten and hundreds of drunken rides home. Replacing the Volvo with a new car sure looked like he was replacing House with Sam, even if he wasn't.

Wilson slid into the driver's seat now, not caring that he was getting water on the seat and appreciating for the first time how comfortable it felt to be sitting there and gripping the wheel. If he was going to sell the car tomorrow, and he was because otherwise House would win, he might as well enjoy it as much as possible right now. So he drove but not with a destination in mind, at least, not yet. For now he just wanted to go. The wipers allowing him to see the road for a few seconds before the rain coated the window again.

He smiled, remembering how House had tested the wipers in the store, claiming that Wilson was exactly the type of person they would send home with a nonfunctioning window wiper. He remembered the day they bought the car. It was a frosty afternoon in December, clear sky but deceivingly so. He hadn't known House for that long when they went to the dealership but the sight of him sitting in the Volvo with the sleek silver coating, seat rolled back, feet resting on the dashboard, winter hat half-pulled over his eyes, grinning up at him had made him buy the car right then and there.

"How about this one?" Wilson circled a black Vauxhall Vectra.

"Nice. Safe. Reliable," House nodded understandingly, "it tells people you're boring before you can even open your mouth. Good choice."

He disappeared. Wilson noticed that he did that a lot and practically had to run to catch up with him.

"If I'm so boring," he huffed at House, "why have you been hanging around my apartment for the past two years?"

"Calm down Jimbo," House laughed, "I said the car's boring, not you. And to answer your question, I don't know about your apartment but I'm here because I now that salesgirls can sell you anything with their cleavage. You would just go home with the most expensive car here."

This was probably true, Wilson knew, and it was time to get rid of the car he'd had when he was married to Sam. He'd put it off for a good two years now.

"What about this one?" Wilson ran his hand against a Ford Mondeo.

"That says you have a PhD in scrubbing floors not telling little kids they have cancer," House provided before skipping off.

"I don't care about what a car says about my status," Wilson said defensively, flashing an apologetic smile towards the young couple also taking a look at the Ford who were now glancing at the two doctors with contempt.

"Sure you do. Everyone does."

"Ok. Ok," he conceded, "what about the Ford Probe?"

House feigned throwing up in a nearby car, "Ford probe? Can't you picture the herd of girls running away from you after you tell them the name of your car?"

Next thing he knew House had disappeared once again and one of the aforementioned salesgirls with cleavage was asking him what he needed help with.

After chitchatting and discovering that the girl knew everything about flirting with costumers but nothing about cars, Wilson tore his eyes away from the cleavage and went in search of House.

He found his friend standing in front of a Volvo S-8, head tilted to the side and arms crossed against his chest as he admired the car. Wilson would come to miss that relaxed stance in the years after the infraction; he would come to miss the sight of his friend completely at ease. He thought nothing of it at the time.

House never said he liked the car but Wilson could see that he did. It was exactly the type of car that House would like. Sleek, silver, fast, young but not childish. When House climbed into the passenger's seat of the car, made himself comfortable and flashed a smile at him, he couldn't help but slip into the driver's seat and grin back.

House, in turn, rolled his seat back, rested his feet and the dashboard and turned up the radio. It felt like they were on the road already.

It felt just right and he knew it was irresponsible to buy a car just because he thought it would be fun to go on a road trip with his best friend but...when was the last time he took a chance?

"Hey," he waved his hands out of the window at a nearby shop girl, "I'll take this one."

Both House and the girl shot him a surprised look. "Don't you wanna take it out for a test drive first?" they cried in unison.

Wilson laughed at that, "nah! It feels just right."

"Ok. I'll go get the manager."

It wasn't the first time House had turned his diagnostic eye on him but it was the first time he looked so damn surprised by him. His head tilted to one side, a faint smile, blue eyes slightly narrowed.

Wilson knew now, after twenty years of House, that he'd been foolish back then. House had realized the significance of the act even if Wilson hadn't. Wilson knew that House hadn't meant to manipulate him into buying the car. Not yet, not at that point in their friendship. He hadn't even guessed that Wilson would get the car.

What that look meant (a younger Wilson hadn't realized it but he knew this in retrospect) was that House had discovered exactly how important he was to Wilson. The rest was history

Something made Wilson snap out of the memory. He realized that it was that fact that he was driving at full speed and there were bright headlights coming straight at him, blinding him. Next thing he knew he was spinning the wheel like his life depended on it, swerving out of the way of the oncoming car and as a result also swerving off the road entirely.

Do drop a word! I'll wait until I have some feedback to edit and upload the next chapters.