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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: You'll Always Be Close to My Heart, Vegas

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When Wilson woke up it was a headache that greeted him first, then it was the lights that he forgot to turn off before going to bed. Not ready to wake up, he pulled the covers over his head and stayed there but of course it was no use. He was now awake and there was no going back to sleep now.

He did notice by the way he was sprawled out in the bed that he was the only one in it. Where ever House was he had no idea. Slowly he sat up and held a hand to his head as he tried to will his hangover away but to no avail. He was stuck with it for better or for worse and he was sure there was no for better when it came to a hangover. This was karma at its best. If you're going drink yourself into oblivion in one night, well, you've better be ready for the consequences.

He reached up and rubbed his face before looking about the room through squinted eyes. What he did find was a room littered with various articles of clothing and casino chips. He didn't even bother to pick up anything as he tossed back the covers and found himself dressed in only his jeans and socks. He let out an amused snort and shook his head. How he got to sleep in the first place with his jeans he had no clue. He really must have been smashed. After a quick stretch he pulled himself out of the bed and tried to block out the fact that he and the bed smelled heavily of stale old alcohol. He really needed a shower. But first, what was up with all those casino chips?

It looked almost as if they had attacked a dealer downstairs and just dumped their treasure out onto the floor. But really, they couldn't have done that, could they? No, that doesn't seem likely at all. Even drunk Wilson was never the kind to just attack and steal. Maybe they came about it the honest way and won it. But who? And doing what? He'd have to ask House if he knew later.

And speaking of House, where was he? It seemed he took Wilson's declaration about claiming the bed to heart because he was nowheres in it regardless to its large size. Slowly he sat up and looked around with eyes still heavy with sleep. It wasn't until he actually forced himself out of the bed was when he found him dressed in a t-shirt and pajama pants and stretched out on the Suite's couch asleep with the TV still on at a low volume.

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It was the sound of something being dropped in the shower that woke House up from his deliciously peaceful slumber on an extremely comfortable couch. He cracked an eye open and found the room empty and quiet, save for the sound of the shower being shut off. He closed his eyes back and let out a loud yawn. He guessed now was a good a time as any to wake up. He opened his eyes again and this time something on the floor caught his attention. He arched a brow at the mess of a late night winnings streak but dismissed it as he closed his eyes again.

He laid there for a good while with his legs stretched out taking of the whole span of the couch as he waited for anything to happen beside the weather man talking about the weather outside on the TV. It was only when he heard the bathroom door open he finally spoke. "What the hell's with all these poker chips all over the floor?" House called as he turned his attention in the direction of the bathroom. It was a few seconds later Wilson immerged in the open doorway with an unbutton shirt hanging loosely around his shoulders as he held onto a towel he was using to dry his hair. House quickly turned his attention back to the weatherman. The last thing he needed to be doing now was drooling over his best friend in plain view.

Wilson didn't notice.

"Truthfully, I have no idea. I was hoping you knew." His brown eyes took in the slight of the messy floor once again before he took the towel he had been holding and started to worked on drying his hair some more while he headed back into the bathroom before tossing over his shoulder, "Why not count it and see how much money we have just lying around?"

"Yeah, sure." House answered simply, willing to do most anything to get his mind off the image of his friend. He had managed to sneak another peak just as Wilson has started to towel off his damp hair only to regret it immediately (even though his more primal side really appreciated the view).

He sat up and tossed his legs over the side of the couch and stood, taking a good long stretch. There was something strange about the casino chips. What it was exactly he had no idea. There was just something suspicious about them that kept tugging at the back of his mind and wouldn't allow him let the feeling go.

Maybe he'd figure it out later.

Not really feeling to the task of having to bend over repeatedly and wanting his body more time to adjust to just waking up (more like being lazy), House opted to use his foot like a rake and started to sweep the chips into a pile. Once he had all of the chips he could see or bothered looking for he bent over and started to grab what he could in handfuls; dropped them into heaps onto the coffee table. He took the plastic wealth and started to sort them into their dollar amounts to make the counting process much easier.

And in that cute oblivious and klutzy way that he constantly denied he ever does, Wilson walked out into the living room and suddenly asked, "So, what's it looking like?"

House kept counting the chips by feeling them pass through his hand as held a stack of them and turned his head to the question, only to lose count at the sight of his friend standing there all handsome and pretty. House slowly narrowed his eyes at Wilson before turning his attention back to his hands that had come to a halt when the next number was forgotten. He played it off as that question tossing him off his game and fixed his gaze at the pile of already counted chips and promptly dropped the ones he still held in his hands onto the table.

Wilson immediately understood the gesture.

"Oh, sorry." He apologized and slipped passed the room and into the kitchen to make some coffee.

House nodded and pushed the pile aside and stared sorting the chips out again. Wilson was about to ask if House wanted some coffee, but quickly stopped himself just as the though finished. He just made the assumption that yes, he would and that he'd better not make House miscount again or it was going to be he himself counting all the winnings.

While waiting for the coffee machine to do its job, Wilson went into the living room and watched until House finished off counting off the last few chips. "Goddamn… whoever did all the winning last night might have to go to the casinos in Atlantic City more often." Wilson furrowed his brows as the mention of Atlantic City tried to tug forth some memory of last night that echoed miles away in the foggy recesses of his mind.

We might have to start brining you to Atlantic City during the weekends from now on!

"What's wrong?" A gruff voice and curious stare brought Wilson crashing back to the casino's suite.

He looked back at House. "You said that last night." He spoke, his voice unsure. "Or something like it."

"Really?"

"I think so.. maybe." He thought a second more before added, "I don't.. I don't know." Not feeling that the statement held any real importance, Wilson dismissed the memory and went into the kitchen to check on the coffee.

House only tried to think on it. Atlantic City… He couldn't remember talking about it last night, but maybe he did. He wouldn't doubt it one bit. But whoever was doing all the winning last night was one lucky guy, that is, if over five grand had anything to say about it.

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"Hey, Jimmy.. You remember anything about a cop car? Or riding in one last night?" House said as he took a sip of his Dr. Pepper while he stared at a cop car parked on a nearby curb. Wilson looked up from his food and furrowed his brows as if to think on it for a moment. "I could be a dream for all I know," House supplied and followed it up with, "Lord, I wish I could remember all the bullshit we probably got ourselves into last night." He laughed, finally pulling his attention from the cop car.

"No.. I don't really remember anything with a cop car.."

You two been drinking?

Of Course! We're in Vegas!

House winced just slightly at hearing the echoed remnants of that last comment. He was almost sure that was him. God, he was drunk last night. "What do you remember? Anything?" Wilson asked before shoving a forkful of some Mexican chicken mixture into his mouth as House snapped back from the memory.

Don't consent to that, Jimmy! You're gonna get us put in jail!

"I just remember some cop talking… and the inside of a cop car. But hell, we weren't arrested.. unless it's routine around here to toss the arrested and drunk back out onto the streets." Wilson shrugged.

"We'll probably remember later. Then again, maybe we'll never remember."

"Yeah, maybe not.." House tried off as he tried his hand at recalling anymore fragments of last night.

--

Vegas was just as exciting and filled with the things to make some of your most fabulous dreams come true as one always imaged it would be. They went and did everything and more. They went to restaurants, casinos, shows (a magic show that House demanded they go see), a play and Broadway (that Wilson demanded but not without much complaint from House), and in the end, even gave in and went to see one of the Siegfried and Roy shows downstairs. So, really they saw two magic shows. They also managed to get into a Cirque du Soleil show on their last day there and let's not forget the two strip joints that third night.

Though no one got any closer to remembering what exactly what happened that first night, but they knew Vegas would always be held close as some of their best days. But even in all the fun and good times Wilson didn't know what was wrong with him or why he felt the way he did. Suddenly in a day's time he felt empty; like his heart was ripped out and was yearning for something...his heart ached for someone.

What confused him was what in the world started it? And why so suddenly? He thought maybe the whole divorce thing finally hit him and he was only now realizing that he really was alone. He wanted to say that was the reason, he really did. Then he would have an explanation for the way he felt..But something in the back of his mind said that wasn't right. That wasn't the reason.

But when it came time to leave Sin City, the two stuck to their plan on getting a rental car and were going to drive the way back. This way they could get the great feel of a road trip and take in all the scenery they had wanted to in the beginning, only this way they see it once instead of twice. Being that it was such a pleasant day out Wilson sat outside as he waited for House to fill out the paperwork for the rental. Once again, House had been secretive about the choice of car he was looking to rent and knowing him it could be just about anything.

Wilson didn't feel like spoiling his good mood with one of House's guessing games.

It was about ten minutes of as much peace and quiet one could have while sitting outside a car rental establishment when suddenly a black Corvette C5 convertible pulled up with Gregory House sitting in the driver seat with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Wilson didn't even realize who it was until he heard a loud whistle meant to get his attention. "Oh my god, what is that?" Wilson asked with wide eyes as he stared at the car.

"This is something that's gonna cost me a shit load of money if we hurt it on the way home." Wilson approached the car and touched it as if it were a piece of fine china. House rolled his eyes. "Get in, you're not gonna break it, idiot. It's a car." Wilson did as he was told but not without a glare. House gave the wheel a soft stroke. "This baby isn't even a year old yet. Damn, we're gonna look hot driving this home."

"Don't you think it's a little much?"

"No, actually I think we should get even classier but it was the best thing they had on the lot." Wilson gave him a skeptical look. "Don't look at me like that; it's not your money. And besides, life is for living and having fun, not driving around in a piece of shits that will make you look just like that, a piece of shit."

"Right." Wilson answered back sarcastically.

But House knew his friend better than this. "Don't you even play that card with me! I know you're just about ready to piss yourself to drive around in this thing, admit it!"

Wilson let out a laugh, "Who wouldn't? I guess it's alright as long as I'm not paying for it." He said playfully as he leaned back in the seat and waited for House start driving.

"Now that's more like it! We can experience it all, Jimmy, riding around on that long open roadway, feeling the wind through our hair having the time of our lives. Hell, we can even sleep in those seedy motels and eat at truck stop diners!"

"You're probably the only person who wants to sleep in a fitly seedy motel."

"We can be Thelma and Louise! You can be Susan Sarandon and I'll be Geena Davis."

"Of course."

"Well?"

It took a little more convening, but finally Wilson gave in. "Only on one condition."

"And that would be?"

"We visit my Uncle Thomas in New Orleans."

"Hah! Jimmy, you don't even have to ask twice! If New Orleans is where you wanna go, I have absolutely no qualms about that!" he tossed Wilson an atlas book he bought from the car rental place. "Here, figure out how to get to New Orleans."