014. Black

Always

House leaned against the balcony and stared out into the night. His mood matched the dark sky; his patient had died because they hadn't been able to figure out what was wrong with her and now her husband was threatening to sue even though he didn't know what was wrong with her either. Cuddy was furious with him because he hadn't helped the situation by taking some of his frustration out on the stupid man therefore making Cuddy's job of soothing the waters far more difficult. She'd retaliated by assigning him more clinic hours though she insisted they were in fact the hours he should have worked last week. Then Stacy had spoken to him about the case and it had taken most of his fraying self-control not to yell at her. Her irritated and slightly condescending tone of voice had shredded his remaining nerves.

He felt more than saw Wilson arrive though his black mood did not lift even when the younger man leaned on the balcony next to him, their shoulders brushing. Wilson stared out into the night alongside him and they were silent, Wilson's warmth bleeding through to his arm.

"I had two thank me today," Wilson said in a melancholy tone. "But I think you get a rebate for once all things considered."

House didn't reply and Wilson turned so that his back was to the night and he looked into House's face.

"What happened?" he asked patiently as he picked up on House's mood.

"Cuddy. Stacy," House said shortly, his gaze never shifting from the distant spot he was staring at.

Wilson nodded slowly. He liked Stacy as a person but he hated the effect she had on House. He wished Cuddy hadn't offered her that job, that she'd taken her husband and disappeared off to wherever she had gone after her relationship with House had fallen apart. She still loved House in some way and he knew that House still loved her in some way. But House also hated her, distrusted her. She had betrayed him and he would never, could never forgive that. And every time he had to deal with her on an extended basis, his mood darkened. Wilson hated that; House's mood was rarely happy but at least with Wilson it was often light and even playful.

He sighed softly and let his hand rest on House's arm. House's eyes finally moved at this; they stuttered down to where Wilson's hand lay, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth. They then shifted up to Wilson's face and the oncologist sighed again at the turbulence present in those blue eyes.

"Let's go," Wilson said softly. "I'll buy the food, you pay for the beer."

House stared at him for a moment longer then slowly some of the turbulence settled and calmed and House nodded. He grabbed his cane and headed for his office. Wilson briefly let one hand brush House's shoulder before he turned for his own office to get his bag. House turned at the touch and a small smile briefly lifted the ends of his mouth.

"Thank you," he said before opening the door.

"Always," Wilson replied.