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Chapter 3

House escaped from the clinic just after five pm after an afternoon filled with coughing children and their stupid parents and idiots trying to get the rest of the day and hopefully tomorrow off work. He'd been thoroughly disappointed when neither his team nor Wilson had paged him with waiting test results that would free him from his drudgery.

He arrived back at his office to find his team sitting around the table in the conference room doing whatever it was they did when they were waiting for results. From what he could see, Cameron was going through his mail, Chase was doing yet another crossword and Foreman was reading a medical journal. He limped into his office drawing the momentary attention of all three. When they went back to their respective diversions, House's questions about results and patients were answered.

He opened the door to the balcony and limped out, peering around to see if Wilson was in. He was disappointed to find the other man's office dark and empty then remembered that Wilson was meeting with his lawyer this evening. He scowled then turned and packed his bag. Neither of his patients was in a life-threatening condition right now and the last thing he wanted to do after an afternoon in the clinic was spend more time here. He limped out into the conference room and almost smirked when his team suddenly dropped what they were doing and looked at him expectantly.

"Very good," he congratulated them mockingly. "Do you balance balls on your noses and clap your flippers together? Go home. The lab won't deliver results after five and the nurses will page you if anything goes wrong."

With that he limped out of the conference room and headed for the lifts without waiting to see their responses. He and Wilson had taken to driving in together, mostly in his car because Wilson liked it better and so did he for that matter. They used Wilson's car this morning but he knew Wilson would have taken a taxi to his lawyer's office and left the car for him. He stopped off at their favourite Chinese place on his way home for take out, buying enough for both of them since he doubted Wilson would be eating at his meeting. When he got home, he grabbed a beer and the food and settled in on the couch, turning the TV on and channel surfing to find something interesting.

He had just settled on watching a documentary on ancient Egypt when he heard a key in the lock. He tensed momentarily before scowling at himself. Wilson was the only other person to have a key to the door ergo the sound of a key in the lock could only be him. He glanced around briefly when the door opened then was forced to turn back for a better look. Wilson looked drawn and exhausted as he let his bag drop to the floor and hung up his jacket.

House considered his options then decided on something neutral. "That bad?"

Wilson walked over and dropped down on the couch next to House. He sighed and let his head drop onto the back of the couch. "Not really. Just…exhausting. Remind me not to get married again; the divorces are starting to kill me."

House snorted as he got to his feet and limped towards the kitchen. He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and limped back to the couch. Wilson accepted the beer with a weak smile and House sat down again.

"If you get married again then I probably won't be around to tell you not to," he said sourly.

Wilson was silent at that then he let one hand drift over to rest on House's left leg. "Guess I'm not getting married again then."

House felt something unwind inside his chest at that.

"It's honestly more tiring being polite to each other than it is when we were arguing," Wilson continued, his eyes closing and his head drifting down onto House's shoulder.

House jerked his shoulder. "Don't do that. You fall asleep there, we'll both regret it."

Wilson pulled himself upright and put the beer down in the table. "I should eat," he said in an uninterested tone.

"I got Chinese," House said, gesturing absently to the boxes on the table in front of them. "Might be cold though."

Wilson shrugged and picked through the food for several minutes before putting it back down and scrubbing his face with one hand.

"I'm going to have a shower and go to bed," he said with a sigh. "'M sorry."

"You're always boring when you've been dealing with Julie," House said with equanimity.

Wilson didn't react but just pushed himself off the couch and headed for the bedroom. House finished the last of his beer then got up and limped over to the piano. He played softly as he heard the shower start and then eventually stop. He always hated what divorces did to Wilson; the man tried so hard to be polite no matter what the circumstances were or how his almost-ex-wives reacted and it always ripped something to shreds inside him.

House found himself modulating into 'Cry Me A River' and quickly pulled his hands away from the keyboard. This was the other problem with Wilson's divorces. They always seemed to bleed over. Wilson rarely let anyone other than House see how deeply he was affected by the destruction of his latest marriage and House always found himself getting ridiculously maudlin in response no matter how much he tried to avoid it.

He grabbed his cane and started clearing up the remains of dinner, putting the boxes of food in the fridge and tossing the beer bottles in the bin. He turned out the lights and headed for the bedroom. Wilson was lying on his side in the bed, facing away, though the tenor of his breathing indicated he was still awake. House limped into the bathroom before getting undressed and into bed. He swallowed a pill and put the bottle on the bedside table.

The rattling of the pills seemed to spark something in Wilson. He turned over and propped himself up on one elbow.

"You take too many of those," he said flatly.

"Julie's made you miserable so now you feel the need to make me miserable," House said in what was almost a snarl. "A flow-on effect. How delightful."

Wilson sighed and let his head drop back onto the pillow. "I'm…not trying to make you miserable. I was just stating a fact. For me not to get married again, you need to be around. Keep taking those at the rate you do and…" He paused. "I want you to be around."

"If I haven't overdosed by now, I'm hardly likely to get the urge tomorrow," House replied dismissively.

"Don't be obtuse," Wilson snapped, irritation suddenly flaring. "You know as well as I do that prolonged use of Vicodin can cause liver damage. And they don't do liver transplants on drug addicts."

"Why are we doing this now?" House snarled. "You feel you have to spread the pain?"

The irritation flowed out of Wilson as suddenly as it had flared and he flung an arm over his eyes. "You know why we're doing this," he said softly. "Will you just try and cut down? Please?"

The soft entreaty hit House harder than anything caustic Cuddy or Foreman had ever said about his addiction and he sucked in a quick breath.

"Contrary to popular opinion, I like my job," he said evenly. "Well…I like it when it's interesting. I like being able to do my job. We've been through this before."

"I know." The almost whispered response sounded defeated and tired.

House winced at his lover's tone but couldn't find anything else to say. They lay there in silence for a while then Wilson rolled over and slid one hand onto House's stomach. House felt himself relax and he wordlessly encouraged the other man closer. The sigh from Wilson was a satisfied one this time and he curled up around House, taking care even though half-asleep not to jar the older man's leg. House wrapped one arm around Wilson and stared at the ceiling until sleep overtook him.

There is more to this chapter but it goes beyond what is permitted here. It's probably a hard R, more likely NC-17, and it can be read in full at my writing LJ - the address should be in my user info. Otherwise search for it under "swordkat".