Wilson badgered him to show the finer points of piano playing until 11pm. By the time House said enough, the dark circles under Wilson's eyes nearly matched the color of his golf ball sized bruise.
"You're tired, Jimmy. Get some sleep."
"I'm not gonna sleep," Wilson said, tapping random notes on the black keys. "I'm just going to lay awake all night and think about my wife."
"So go to bed and lay awake." House pulled himself up and stalked towards the bedroom. "I'm tired and want to get some shut-eye. There's pillows and blankets in the closet."
"I have to get my own blankets?"
"If you want to sleep naked on top of the mattress I'm not going to stop you."
There were two bedrooms but only one bathroom. The doctor let his guest take a quick shower and brush his teeth first. He swallowed a Vicodin and waited for the other bedroom door to shut.
After House finished brushing his teeth, he went to the other bedroom and paused outside. He half-expected to hear Wilson crying, but instead the sound of faint snoring filtered through the door.
You're tired, Wilson, House thought and limped to bed.
He woke up at 3am and something wasn't quite right. Some light was creeping into the room and it wasn't from the numbers on the alarm clock. The light was sneaking in under the door. His door was closed. It was always open since there was never any need for a man who lived alone to close it.
You get extra points for being polite, Jimmy, House mused as he sank back into the pillow.
The light wasn't harsh which suggest that Wilson was in the kitchen. He was in the kitchen, probably sipping coffee and mulling over the very real possibility of a third divorce.
A joke he once told his friend flashed across House's mind:
"Jimmy, what's the number one cause of divorce?"
"I don't know. What?"
"Marriage."
House pulled the blankets back up to his neck and closed his eyes. There was no reason to get up and comfort his friend. There was nothing he could say that hadn't already been said before. If Wilson wanted him out there he would have left the bedroom open and started butchering 'Yesterday' on the piano.
Tomorrow Wilson would spend the day trying to reach Julie and checking his voice-mail for lawyers. House could do nothing about it right now and pushed the rumination aside. But he had a strong feeling the younger doctor would need a shoulder to cry on within the next twenty-four hours. Lord knows he went crying to Wilson a few times over Stacy during the last eight years.
Good luck, Wilson, you're going to need it, he thought and drifted back to sleep.
The alarm screeched. Before he could stop himself, House smacked it off the night table. It landed with the green numbers pointing to the ceiling.
Light was still shining under the door, and the low babble of the morning news drifted into the room along with the scent of coffee.
There was no dream of Lisa Cuddy that night. House was more than a little disappointed.