The papers sat on his desk, laughing at him. Which they would be, if they had mouths. Shouting and screaming at him too. The harsh black ink dripped with hatred. Wilson picked up his pen and placed it on the faint dotted line, a feeling of nausea washing over him. He threw the pen down and put his hands to his head. This was the worst part of divorce. Funny how such a simple thing, something he did everyday without thinking, could hurt so much. Wilson could hardly remember how to write.
Sign and post by Monday
J.
Short and cold. That was Julie through and through. Wilson groaned and picked the pen up again, determined to do it again. It felt strange, signing away over a year of his life. A year he would never claim back. His left hand shook as he made a 'J'-
"Need a consult." House burst into his office in his usual manner and plonked himself down onto the chair opposite. Wilson glared at him.
"I'm in the middle of something, House," he said irritatedly. House rolled his eyes and snatched the papers from his desk, his sharp blue eyes scanning the tiny print in a matter of seconds.
"Give me the pen," he said.
"What? No!" House dug around in his pocket before finding a black biro. He signed the papers with a flourish while Wilson watched on in amazement, too stunned to speak. He slipped them into the envelope (which Julie had so kindly provided, stamped and addressed) and licked the seal.
"That's how you do it," he said with a practised air.
"You can't do that!" exclaimed Wilson, his mouth hanging dumbly open. House shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.
"Just did."
"You forged my signature! She'll know it's not mine."
"Whatever. You just scribble anyway. She won't be able to tell the difference. She's not too bright." Wilson sat back into his hard-backed chair, still shocked. But also glad. House gave his friend a second before asking again.
"Consult." Wilson looked up at him, dazed, before standing up.
"Right. Okay." He walked out of his office, House limping close behind.
"You can't just start treatment on a hunch," said Wilson as House piled chips onto his plate.
"Yeah."
"Are you even listening to me?" House turned his head.
"Shall I give you the truth or the answer you want to hear?" Wilson sighed (something he seemed to do a lot these days) and pulled his wallet out, handing over $20. The lunch lady raised an over-plucked eyebrow as she pulled open the cashier. House smiled at Wilson as he nicked an apple off his plate.
"You hate fruit," he said, scowling. House took a big bite with relish.
"Nah. It's healthy, remember?" They sat down by their favourite bench outside. Wilson could hear children screaming on the playground a few hundred metres away. "I hate children," said House.
"No kidding."
"Hate parents too."
"Why don't you just say 'people' and get it over and done with?" asked Wilson, exasperated.
"I hate - Cuddy, you look absolutely stunning today!" Cuddy narrowed her eyes and folded her arms. House smiled innocently. "Really. That blouse...I love the detail around the neckline."
"Why is Mrs Prichard complaining about you? She said you told her that her husband was probably cheating on her," Cuddy almost yelled.
"Who wouldn't cheat on her? She is old and fat." He turned back to Wilson. "I hate fat people too."
"But you also said she was hideously over-weight and would die within the next year!"
"I was giving my medical opinion! Someone had to tell her."
"And it had to be you, of course," snapped Cuddy. "Two more clinic hours."
"Oh, but Mummy! My leg hurts," he pouted. Wilson watched the exchange, amused.
"Pity nothing else does." She talked off, her high heels clicking on the pavement.
"Well, that was interesting."
"I hate Cuddy."
"No, I really felt the sexual tension there," commented Wilson, putting a piece of cucumber into his mouth.
"How can you eat rabbit food?" asked House, changing the subject.
"It's healthy."
"So?"
"We're doctors, we know the risks."
"So?"
"So, we...set an example." Wilson eyed his friend thoughtfully. "Although you may be a special case." House nodded, chewing on a greasy chip.
"So what did you do?" he asked, swallowing. Wilson went silent. "Oh, come on. You're going to crash on my couch for at least a month, I have a right to know!"
"No, you don't."
"Jenny in Oncology."
"What? No way. Not my type."
"Everything is your type," said House. Wilson frowned. "Save your sulking for later, you can go and play depressing music in your office. Rachel, down in clinic."
"Why do you always assume it's a pretty one? Am I really that shallow?" House tilted his head as he sipped his Coke.
"You really want me to answer that? Katie in Radiology."
"No, and her name's Yasmin."
"Hey, you would know."
"But I don't!" Wilson cried out. House smirked.
"Ooh...so it's a guy?"
"What? No!" House feigned amazement.
"Wilson is g-a-y," he sang gleefully. Several heads turned and Wilson face-palmed. "Don't worry, I'll support you through this difficult time. Coming out is - "
"Who's coming out?" asked Chase, sitting down next to House. House scowled at the young doctor.
"Did we ask you to join us?" Chase bit into his slice of pizza.
"Nuh, all the other tables were full," he said, his mouth full. House made a face before stuffing his own face. Wilson watched them for awhile before takinga chip from House's plate.
"Hey!"
"I paid for it!"
"So who's coming out anyway?" asked Chase between mouthfuls. Wilson observed him with amused disgust, wishing he had gotten pizza as well.
"Wilshurfn."
"What?"
"Pardon, not what," corrected House, taking a long swig from the can. "Wilson." Wilson stood up abruptly, and coughed.
"Err...patient," he mumbled, hurrying off.
"He's finding it very difficult," whispered House loudly.
