Title: In His Footsteps

Author: SrslyNo

Summary: After years of silence, House and Wilson meet at a medical conference, but Wilson is more distant than ever. House decides to investigate and discovers Wilson has changed, becoming more like him. Why?

Characters: House/Wilson, Wilson/OC, LLB (he's aliiiive!!)

Rating: R for Language

Warning: AU, Angst. Slash.

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be.

A/N: This story began as a one-shot, "Freeze Out," but due to reader interest, it's now expanded. I want to thank everyone expressing interest in a sequel. This story also encompasses, "A Glassful of Shattered Hope" (slight allusions to DCE) which should be read before chapter 8.

In addition, I want to extend a big thank you to my beta, bishojo_kitsune for her support and encouragement.

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After checking their bags, West joined Wilson as they navigated the terminal. From past experience, pleasantries would not be traded as they passed kiosks, shops and restaurants. The oncologist was concentrating on the polished floors and busy crowds as if he was picking his way through panicked cattle mired in slippery muck.

Today wasn't going to be a day for lucky breaks either, and West wasn't going to breathe easy until he dropped Wilson off at his condo. Maybe not even then. He wanted to check how the beer and liquor inventory was fairing to gauge if the House sighting was going to affect Wilson's drinking.

First, he was unable to run interference to keep House away, and now the Gods saw fit for them to board their plane at a gate that didn't show up on GPS. They had more than an hour before the plane's departure, but he could feel Wilson's displeasure radiating off him before he heard him muttering, "Where the hell is gate 37? At the end of the fucking universe?"

No, not a good sign. His friend's dry wit could fit into a mummified rat's ass and still be spacious enough to accommodate a bonus room of sarcasm.

They were into the '30's' when some crazy lunatic came speeding past, cutting Wilson in mid-stride when he was unable to stop. Fortunately, as soon as West spotted the human bullet he instinctively grabbed onto his friend's arm. As he predicted, Wilson stumbled, but the additional support prevented him from sprawling onto the floor. A rosy blush suffused Wilson's face as he realized he came close to falling. West held on until he was assured that he regained his footing.

Knowing beforehand that he was going to regret the question, he asked, "Hey, that guy deserves a speeding ticket. Sit down, and let me get a whee—"

"No." Wilson stepped away, smoothed his suit, and straightened his tie. "I can make it through this fucking airport without a fucking wheelchair. I've had my fucking fill of them."

West waited silently, slowly counting to ten. He'd witnessed this before. He swallowed his own annoyance. It wasn't as if he didn't get it. Speaking as if he didn't have a care in the world, "There's only four more fucking gates to go. Are you fucking ready?"

Wilson picked up on the hint about his poor behavior and allowed one corner of his mouth to tug into a half-smile that resembled a grimace, but he nodded agreement.

They started off deadly slow, but West was hanging by his side. Moments like these, it really hit Wilson what kind of jerk he'd become, but he hated airports, and he was convinced that airports had it in for him

*

The end of the universe never looked so good. West was relieved when Wilson located an end seat to his liking and sank down with a muffled grunt, pulling out his phone and catching up on hospital communications.

West dropped his overnight bag into the next chair and draped his jacket over it. They left the conference before lunch, and he was scanning the available vendors for food. "So House walked away without finding out anything. You got your wish."

Glancing up from his device, Wilson scowled, "You think I successfully dodged a bullet? Haven't I told you about House?"

Folding his arms over his chest, West answered, "Actually, no you haven't. House the, doctor, and the bizarre cases he solved yes, but talk about the man? You go from your charming uncommunicative self to mute whenever I ask you about him."

"House is on a "need to know" basis, and all you need to know is that right now, he is most likely preparing a heat-seeking missile that's not gonna stop until it explodes up my ass." Wilson's hand swiped at his forehead and peered up, "As soon as we get back, I'll need your help on damage control."

When could West deny those liquid brown eyes? He blinked and returned to reality, replying as expected, "Why certainly Wilson, it would be my pleasure to help since you asked so nicely."

The comment earned him a frown.

Not feeling that he was up to his quota in insulting looks, he pressed, "Why bother playing cat and mouse? Why not level with him?"

Wilson snapped, "Because this is House, and I prize my privacy. Two mutually exclusive concepts. What would you think if I told you I knew your blood type?"

"I'd think that's…kinda creepy."

"That's House. He's gotta know how everyone ticks - inside and out, and why.

"Right now, I'm not interested in your blood type or your advice. Are you helping or not?"

"Yeah, I'll do what I can to keep House at bay. Can't have matter and anti-matter colliding and destroying the universe can I? What do you want?

"Check the records at Mercy…verify that they're sealed. I'll take care of the rest"

"West. Doctor West at your service. Call me by my code name, double 'O' positive."

"Must I say it again? I'm not interested in your blood type, and Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you find something else to do with your mouth other then talk?"

"After Larry Craig, airport bathrooms aren't what they used to be." West appreciated the derisive snort that issued from Wilson. "Are you trying to tell me I'm hungry?"

"And thirsty."

West could have done without the last hint. He decided to ignore it. "What do I want to eat?"

"Hamburgers. Fries…and beer."

"Kind of early for beer."

Wilson threw him a pointed look before he went back to the emails displayed on his phone, "It's the chaser for the drinks you're gonna buy me on the plane."

Shaking his head as he headed to the space age hofbrau, West considered how he'd best be a Wilson wrangler for the next several hours and keep the drinking under control so he would walk out of the airport under his own power.

A well-groomed white-haired man who was probably somebody's grandfather greeted him under the "Order here" sign. "Uhm…two cheeseburgers, one large order of French fries, a large coffee, and one medium beer." West swung his head over his shoulder, gauging the depth of Wilson's concentration. He was still hunched over his iPhone, and wasn't coming up for air anytime soon. He scanned the backlit menu, deciding now would be a good time as any for deceit, "On second thought, what do you have in non-alcoholic brews? The senior citizen recited the list of two. Yeah. Give me a large of the German sounding one instead. Thanks."

tbc

Thank you for reading. Comments welcome.