August 10th
Wilson had never been a particularly devout man. He'd attended temple with his family, observed the niceties to please his mother; he even found the ritual comforting. But as for God's presence in his own life, Wilson was dubious. He'd watched too many good people die of mindless disease to still believe in a benevolent God. And now that he was single and his parents lived in another state, he'd quit attending all together. Which was why it was unusual that he now found himself sitting in a synagogue.
House would mock him if he found him here now but as House avoided religious institutions like the plague, more so actually, Wilson felt pretty safe. Maybe that was why he'd wound up here. It was neutral territory. His office, his apartment, his favourite bar- all held inescapable reminders of House. Normally, that was reassuring. Tonight it was maddening. Wilson sat; the warm smell of old building and well-polished wood was comforting.
House had come home from work in a foul mood. His patient had died, and though the autopsy had provided the final puzzle piece, it was small consolation. House had denied his ill-temper, but he'd broken out the single malt. It was sitting on the piano when Wilson had let himself in, a half-empty sign House had given himself completely over to the melancholia that always accompanied him. It was a struggle for Wilson to hold his tongue on nights like these. House was utterly incorrigible, the more Wilson tried to cheer him, or at least keep him from testing his liver's ability to process alcohol, the further House withdrew. It was painful to watch but also infuriating- if House would only... Wilson sighed and stifled the thought. He'd reheated a plate of chicken and roast potatoes from last night, trading it out for the whiskey on the piano, checked to see if House's cell was on and left. He hadn't had a particular destination in mind when he'd gotten in the car, and it wasn't until he was half way there that he realized he was headed toward his old synagogue.
Wilson stood, his lower back complaining about having spent so long on a cushion-less pew. He moved as quietly as possible, though he was the only one there. The slight scuff of his shoes on the tile floor seemed an intrusion. Leaving, he was mildly surprised to realize he actually did feel just the tiniest bit better. More peaceful.
It was an emotion that lasted only as long as it took him to get back to his car. Something on the floor of the passenger's side caught his eye. Curious, he reached under the seat, producing the familiar blue and white DVD cases of their local rental place. Rear Window and Bringing Up Baby had been Wilson's selections; Psycho Beach Party and some bizarre Korean horror flick had been House's. All were movies House had said he'd returned a week ago.
Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath and counted slowly to ten. They were just movies. The late fee nothing more than an annoyance. He reached ten, but felt no calmer. House had once said that their relationship was in exercise in Wilson's self-delusion. At the time he'd argued, if you could call tying a maraschino cherry stem in a knot with your tongue an argument, but now… He threw the car in reverse, narrowly missing a pedestrian. He waved apologetically to the woman and pulled out of the parking lot at with caution. He paid more attention to traffic than was strictly necessary, atoning for his earlier recklessness. The movie place only took him a little out of his way, but that he had to go at all merely renewed his pique.
He returned the movies to the drive-by drop box, glad that he didn't have to go in to the actual store. He wasn't too keen to be seen here anytime soon, which was why he'd assigned House the task of returning the movies in the first place. After the incident last time they were here, it'd be awhile before he'd feel comfortable entering the premises. Sick of fighting over whether to watch TMC or MTV, Wilson had decided to grab a couple of movies and some Tai on the way home. House hadn't wanted to come but was unwilling to give Wilson complete power over movie selection. It had taken him nearly forty-five minutes to choose, and then only after giving a rather lengthy critique of modern cinema. Wilson had finally gotten him to pick something out and herded him to the checkout. The kid at the register had looked at his hand on House's elbow and a look had flickered across his face- that look of speculation and scorn. Wilson had always gotten that look on his public outings with House and it had always vaguely irritated him, but now that the assumptions people made about them were true, its sting was far more biting. He'd dropped House's elbow and hurriedly dug out his membership card, putting a more seemly distance between himself and House.
House had allowed it and Wilson had momentarily thought that he hadn't even noticed. But he was suspiciously enthusiastic as he bid the cashier goodnight and forged on through the security detectors, leaving Wilson to collect the movies and trail after. Outside the glass store-front, he'd stopped so quickly that Wilson had nearly run over him. He'd turned and grabbed Wilson, hauling him in with a hand on the back of his neck. The kiss had been hot and messy and House hadn't broken it until they were both feeling lightheaded. It ended as quickly as it had started; he'd turned without comment and made his way to the car. Wilson had stood dumbfounded, baffled by House's sudden demonstrativeness. That was when he'd caught sight of the kid, along with the line of customers waiting for service; they'd clearly gotten the whole show. Wilson had given a half-hearted wave, acknowledging his audience and then trotted after House as quickly as what was left of his dignity would allow.
Wilson slowed to a stop as the light changed from yellow to red. After a moment's hesitation he got out his phone. Six rings, seven…his fingers drummed impatiently on the steering wheel as he waited for House to pick up. Not that he particularly thought House would. And sure enough, he was directed over to voice mail. House's message was just an obnoxiously long clip from "I Wanna Be Sedated."
"Hey," Wilson ventured after the tone. Now that he'd called, he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. "You forgot to take those movies back. Yeah, I'm sure it just slipped your mind. You're probably real broken up about it, but don't worry; I don't mind." Wilson tried not think about the derisive look House would get when he listened to this message. "And either quit drinking tonight or you don't get to take your meds." Nagging wouldn't annoy House as much as genuine concern. "I am not taking care of that damn rat if you off yourself. K, then..." He realized the pause was getting longer and longer and he either had to say some thing or wrap it up. "Love you." He shut his phone with a snap.
