Disclaimer – We do not own House M.D. It all belongs to David Shore and Fox.
~Chapter 12~
Although an alcohol-induced sleep kept him from having a restless night, House's head started pounding with the first rays of sun. He wasn't sure what it was, the sounds coming from his bathroom, the invading smell of freshly brewed coffee or the annoying sun plaguing the privacy of his room through the outdated blinds on his windows. He had no idea what time it was, but he was damn sure it was way too early for him to get up.
"Damn! I am screwed!" he grunted and covered his head with a pillow remembering the night before. Although he felt relieved that he shared his secret with his best friend and got that burden off of his shoulders, he was painfully aware of Wilson's righteousness. House and morality didn't go well together even though they lived in a necessary cohabitation when needed. House compared morality to a sexual relationship that didn't require commitment or explanation; he simply acted upon it at his own free will and when it best suited his interests. For Wilson, however, it was a constant and a true North that steered human lives. And, that true North was about to demand some actions from him; actions that he was too scared to take.
House rolled onto the left side of his bed and helped his right leg touch the floor. With two swift motions he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair and yawned tiredly. Alcohol was still evaporating from his pores and both his leg and his head were killing him mercilessly.
When he heard the water stop in the bathroom, he called out, "Jimmy, get out! I need to use the bathroom"
Wilson appeared in the doorway and cheerfully said, "Good, you are awake."
"Yes, I am awake but not at my own will. Your beautification rituals are causing me sleep deprivation," he said grumpily and sized him up, from head to toe, "Are you going to a conference or a gay parade?"
"My flight is in five hours," Wilson informed House as he looked at his watch, "and I still have a lot of things to do before I take off. I need to stop by the hospital, check on Cuddy and get my luggage. But before all of that, we need to talk," Wilson explained while crossing his arms at his chest. He noticed how House cringed at the mention of Cuddy's name.
House stood up and slowly attempted to walk past his friend. When Wilson refused to budge, House elbowed him and yelled, "Move! I need to use the bathroom and shower!"
"We need to talk, House!" Wilson calmly repeated.
"I heard you. Now move!" House shoved his unshaven and tired-looking face into Wilson's and stormed past him. Wilson quickly picked up the underlying message and spoke through the closed bathroom door, "I'll be in the kitchen. I made you some coffee"
House never explicitly agreed to anything. It took years and years of turbulent friendship for Wilson to be able to pick up and understand small nuances from House's voice or body language.
House will talk but under his own conditions and when he is ready. Wilson will be waiting.
15 minutes later House limped in the kitchen, groomed and refreshed, but still unable to look at Wilson straight in the eye. Wilson broke the ice by extending him a cup of freshly brewed coffee, which House gladly accepted.
"House, you will have to face reality, sooner rather than later" Wilson carefully opened up the conversation and took a sip of coffee, sympathetically looking at his best friend.
"I know" House sighed and leaned on the counter, still holding his coffee cup. Finally, he raised his eyes to Wilson and brokenly said, "She will hate me!"
"She will probably fire your ass but she will never hate you, House! You gave her the greatest gift of all!" Wilson quickly comforted him and then elaborated the truth that was lingering in the air but House had no courage of admitting,
"And since you only worry about her hating you and not about your job that can only mean one thing: You care about her and not only as a future mother of your child but as a woman."
House did not deny it. Instead, he twirled a spoon in his hand like a guilty five-year-old that had just been caught with his hands in a cookie jar.
"If I have ever had any brownie points with her, I've lost them now," House said in a vocabulary that perfectly matched his guilt and looked at Wilson for comfort.
"You don't know that before you talk to her."
"I can't…" House started but Wilson quickly interrupted him.
"Do you want this child, House?" He locked his eyes with House's and directly demanded an answer.
House gently nodded, guiltily pursing his lips.
"Was that a yes?" Wilson asked, tilting his head and raising one eyebrow.
Again, House nodded, this time a notch harder than before. Verbalizing an answer to Wilson's question was harder than enduring a medieval torture, no matter how cruel.
"OK. So that's definitely a yes." Wilson sincerely smiled at him, "I never thought I'd live to witness this," he finally added with a satisfied grin
"You can stop gloating. It makes your face wrinkle!" House said mockingly and poured more coffee into his cup.
"Anyway, so much to do, so little time", Wilson raised his right index finger, thinking this through, "First you need to tell her. Use this time you opportunely chose to warm her up to the idea of having a child together," Wilson said referring to House's acceptance of having Cuddy stay with him. "That will give you approximately 5 months to prepare for the blessed event," Wilson continued cheerfully and finally concluded, "and about the same amount of time to stop being a jerk!"
"You think I'd be a jerk to my own child," House asked, surprised by Wilson's choice of words and remembering the promise to his own father that he would never be like him.
"Not necessarily to your child, but to its mother for sure. You understand they come in a package now?" Wilson reminded him, once more, that this was not a game anymore. Preaching responsibility to House was like teaching an old dog, new tricks.
"Yeah, I know," House humbly replied.
Wilson looked at his watch and hastily announced, "I gotta get going, it's already 8:15," then he walked over to House and placed a hand on his right shoulder, "House, are you gonna be OK?" Wilson asked kindheartedly.
"I think so," House simply replied and lowered his gaze.
"I don't doubt that you will call me at any hour that suits you but I will say it anyway." Wilson twirled his cell phone in his other hand, "Call me if you need me, OK?"
"OK." House dryly agreed.
Wilson quickly collected his coat and walked out of the kitchen. House, still in his pajama and holding tightly onto his coffee cup, limped slowly after him. In silence he watched his friend head for the main door. House raised his coffee cup to his lips, still determined to suck some life out of the remaining caffeine, when Wilson suddenly stopped in the door and turned around,
"You didn't do it because you were bored or you needed a silly prank. You did it because you couldn't have it any other way but yours and you wanted it all. That primal claim you placed on her, your woman, never really ceased to exit, did it?" Wilson said in one breath and quickly ordered before he closed the door, "Go talk to her!"
House stared at the closed door wishing that, at that moment, he had Wilson's disarming courage and patience. After a long mental debate, he quickly got dressed and headed towards the PPTH. After all, he did promise Cuddy he was going to visit her this morning!