P. S. Don't be surprised if I change my mind again. I'm funny that way. ;p
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The bourbon settled Wilson's nerves a bit. He sat on the end of the sofa with the bag of ice on his cheek and stared towards the front door, not so much looking at as looking through it, as if Julie would come barging in saying it was all a mistake and she wanted him to come home.
House hunted down a box of tissues. When he held it out to his friend, Wilson looked at it as if he had never seen one before.
"I ruined your evening," Wilson said in a strangely detached way. To House, who was on the other end of the sofa, it sounded like his guest was in a roomful of people, speaking to no one in particular.
"You didn't ruin anything."
"You were having a nice evening with Cuddy and I ruined it."
"No, you didn't. Stop saying that."
"I heard you in there," the younger doctor said, his eyes welling up with fresh tears. "You were playing the piano, you and Cuddy were laughing, having a good time. I should have just turned around and left, but instead I show up like a pathetic lost dog–"
"Jimmy!" House's voice was so sharp it could have cut glass. Taking it down a few notches, he said, "You talk like that again and I'm going to throw something at you. You need a place to stay and you're more than welcome to stay here."
"I could go to a hotel."
"No, you're not. I have a spare bedroom and somebody might as well use it."
"Thanks," Wilson muttered. He almost managed a smile.
"Don't mention it. Just remember that the television is mine when The O.C. is on, and don't drink all my bourbon."
"Fair enough." Wilson looked back at the door. "Julie said she's calling a lawyer. She's threatened me with that before, but I think she's actually going to go through with it this time."
"Were you having an affair?" House asked flatly. This wasn't the first time the younger man had been thrown out during his marriages.
Wilson shook his head. "No. I wanted to but I didn't." He wiped his eyes and grabbed another tissue. "Does that make me a bad husband?"
"That's not for me to say. I'm not married to you."
"Lucky you." He looked over to House. "Haven't you ever wanted to get married?"
"So I can be just as miserable as you?"
"You're miserable anyway. Didn't you ever want to marry Stacy?"
Knowing his friend was deliberately changing the subject, House didn't bother changing it back at the moment. They would have plenty of time to talk about Julie and divorce later. "Can't say that I did."
"She never mentioned marriage?"
"She brought it up once or twice," said House, tapping his cane on the table. "It was just talk.
Then I got this weird pain in my leg and the rest is history. If we had been married then the only thing that would have ended up different was her last name."
"But you said you're separated now. What is that all about?" He was curious to see how much House would share, if anything.Wilson was trying to distract himself, he didn't want to think about his wife or the inevitable divorce.
He had to wait a full minute before the older doctor said, "Lisa's a part my life now. To make room for her I had to kick out Stacy out."
"Are you going to let Stacy back in?"
"No."
"Are you going to marry Cuddy?"
"No."
"Good. After all this time you've earned the right to be just a little bit happy." Wilson smiled to himself and said, "I suppose Cuddy never slept in the spare bedroom."
"She's too good for the spare bedroom," House responded.
"And I'm not?"
"I'm not sleeping with you," House shrugged. "Lovers take precedence over platonic friends when it comes to sharing my bed. Unless you want to sleep with me, that is. Then you would be having an affair. And I'm already sleeping with someone so there's no room for you in my bed anyway."
"Point taken," Wilson said, then gingerly touched his swollen cheek. "Ouch! She didn't have to throw the ashtray so damn hard."
House stood up and limped to his guest. "Let's take a look at that." The bruise was an eggplant purple. "If anyone asks, say you got into a fight with Evander Holyfield."
"Nobody will believe that."
"Probably not, but it sounds cooler than being walloped with an ashtray."
"You really know how to cheer a guy up," Dr. Wilson said with what sounded like a genuine laugh.
"Everyone wishes they had a friend like me." The older doctor paused, then said, "Do you think Julie will a call a lawyer?"
"I really don't know. I hope she doesn't," Wilson sighed. "If you don't mind I'd rather not talk about it right now."
"Whatever. What do you want to talk about?"
"How about giving your best friend a piano lesson." Seeing House's startled expression, Wilson continued. "Please. I don't want to think about Julie, marriage, divorce, or ashtrays anymore tonight. I've always wanted to learn how to play. It will keep me from blubbering like a baby all over your living room if nothing else."
"Who am I to argue with logic like that?" Nodding towards the piano, House said, "Get over there. First lesson, a piano has eighty-eight keys."
"I know that already."
"Good. You get a gold star. Second lesson, do not ask to learn something lame like 'Chopsticks'. Remember that and your lesson will go just fine."