More of my slightly altered reality.
"Do you always have to be snarky?"
"I am not snarky."
"Oh, right, I forgot. You prefer caustic."
"See, now that's snarky." James made a noise into his glass. "Did you just snort at me?" House's tone pulled a small laugh out of Wilson, and he peered up from the whiskey.
"His leaving makes it official, you know."
"What? That you're batting zero? Three wives and a lover and you haven't hit a home run yet."
"One hundred, at least." Wilson smiled. "I've still got you." House said nothing, and Wilson shrugged. "Of course, you keep going foul, so-." He left the sentence hanging.
"It's in my nature." Yes, there was a lot of the foul in his nature, Wilson had to admit. So why were they still friends? Maybe because once, there had been more to this man than there was now, andWilson loved a good challenge. House had always had that edge, that take-on-the-world belligerence, the need to be right. The infarction had pushed him over the edge, from belligerent to bitter, and five years later, Wilson was still trying to pull him back. You used to be easier to hit,Wilson thought, but he did not say it, just let out a little sigh and shook his head.
"You're taking this a lot better than I thought you would." House pointed out. "A lot better than any of the divorces."
"Divorce is so public. This is, well, you and I are the only ones who know about this failure."
"It must be hard, being the wonder oncologist."
"It is." Wilson laughed. "It really is, you have no idea."
"James," Wilson looked up from his glass. House's blue eyes were unusually serious. There was something in there,Wilson could see it was there, he just could not figure out what it was or how to get to it. "He was a jerk. You're better off."
"Why Greg, I believe you are actually trying to make me feel better. In fact, if I didn't know better, I would almost say you cared."
House leaned forward, he eyes glittering. "Surprised?" he asked in a low, serious voice.
Wilsonfelt his face pull into that serious expression, the one that came just before revelation. Unconsciously, his fingers rested lightly on the back of House's knuckles on the table. "Frankly, yes."
House sat back, pulling his whiskey glass and his hand off the table. "Another drink?" Wilson nodded and sat back more slowly, idly spinning his glass around in the wet ring it had created, and searching the room for a waitress.
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House watched him for a minute. He did care. He did. It was just so hard to find it anymore. He shifted in his seat, trying to ease the throb in his leg. His pocket rattled, and his eyes fell away from Wilson's face. It had been so much easier to find before the vicodin.