Fix the joint

Ch. 4

Author's note: This chapter will visit the minds of both House and Wilson. If I don't make it clear please let me know and I will try to fix the difference between each mind. Apologies for the delayed update, graduation parties and life got in the way. Enjoy.

Wilson got up earlier than normal the morning of the surgery. House could tell that Wilson was nervous, considering that he was awake two hours before he had to leave, and he barely had to get ready for it. House lay awake in his dark bedroom, flat on his back listening to Wilson bustle around in the kitchen, even though he couldn't eat because of the surgery.

Water running. House opens his eyes and finds darkness. What time is it? Rolling over he discovers that it's 4:00 AM. What the hell is he doing up this early? He grumbles and runs his hands over his face. Must be nervous. By the sound of it he's doing the dishes. Why did I buy a dishwasher if he just washes them? Does he want me there today? I'm not one for moral support but maybe he wants me there even though he knows that. Maybe I'll surprise him again. He likes that. The water stops running. He finished them already? He must be nervous. Time to play friend.

It's still dark, what time is it? Wilson awakes on the couch, surrounded by darkness. He usually wakes in the dark, but he knows it's early yet. 4:00 huh. I'm never going to get back to sleep now. Too nervous. Why am I doing this to myself? Getting all worked up for nothing. He gets up and does his usual morning business and ends up in the kitchen. Can't eat this morning, you know that. Need something to do to kill the time or I'll go nuts. I'll do what I always do when something's bugging me. He proceeds to wash the dishes. I'm done already? What else am I going to do? Maybe if I turn the television on I can relax and maybe fall asleep again. Doubt it.

Wilson heard House coming down the hall but didn't really feel like getting up. House rounded the end of the couch and just looked at Wilson, giving him the move your feet look. Wilson did as he was told and they both rested their feet on the coffee table. Wilson controlled the remote and House didn't care. Wilson was too busy trying to watch the TV to realize that House was giving him the half awake stare.

His emotions were written all over him. Even though he had bed head and was wearing sweats, House could see the stress and anxiety in Wilson's face. I should calm him down before he starts making himself sick with worry. What should I say? I don't usually care about how he feels. Well at least I don't show it. I do care.

He talks softly and a little groggily. "Wilson." House is still looking at him. "Wilson snap out of it."

Wilson blinks hard even though he heard House both times. He meets House's eyes. "What."

"You need to relax. It will be fine."

"I know, I just can't help it." Wilson looks down. "I know it sounds foolish."

House thinks about what to say. Coming up with the right metaphor he responds. "It's like Christmas. There's all this nervous waiting to see what Santa has brought and then suddenly everything's opened and you're thinking, 'What was I all psyched about?"

Wilson looks at him again. "House. I'm Jewish." He pauses long enough, "But I get your point." And throws a small smile at House. "Thanks."

House smiles back.

Somehow Wilson managed to survive both hours before he had to leave. House was aware of what time it was and awake enough to still carry on a conversation. He looked over at Wilson who was still looking nervous enough and only half watching the show.

"You want me to drive you in? I have to drive you home anyway."

"No, you can go back to sleep if you want, we can pick up my car later."

"How can we do that? Your right foot is first so you can't drive for a while anyway."

Wilson was mulling over the whole situation.

"Give me five minutes to get dressed. I'll catch a nap before the case gets there."

House got up and left Wilson with his thoughts. Wow, I knew House could read people but I guess he's got me in the bag. I wake him up earlier than usual and he still solves all the problems before they arise. Why is he being, I dare say, nice to me? Maybe I'll ask him. No I won't. I kinda like him a little nice, any nicer and I'll call him on it and call him Cameron. He'll get it.