Chapter 2: Don't Shoot The Messenger
Wilson walked into House's darkened office to see him curled up on his chair near the door, doing his best impression of being asleep. Wilson wondered for a moment if House had spent the night at the hospital for his latest case, but he took one look at House's appearance and saw that he looked no worse than usual. Wilson realised that he simply went into work early for once, well early for him. Wilson tapped him on the shoulder, not stopping until House opened his eyes and glared at him.
"Hey, knock it off." House protested as he peeled a thin, grey woollen blanket off his body. "I couldn't sleep at home." House explained when he noticed the curious expression on Wilson's face.
"Don't shoot the messenger." Wilson simply said before bending down to press the letter against House's chest. House sat up and in one deft manoeuvre flipped the paper over to read it and swiped the cup of coffee out of Wilson's left hand. Wilson grinned smugly when House shuddered violently after taking a big gulp of the coffee and handed the cup back to him. He had soon figured out the only way to keep his coffee safe from House's clutches was to develop a taste for incredibly sweet coffee.
"You have got to be kidding me!" House exclaimed in disgust after he had read the letter.
"You're a regular, everyday hero, House. There's no escaping the fact." Wilson sat down on the empty footstool next to House.
"I hate sentimental garbage like this." House continued.
"I know." Wilson sighed as he braced himself for an epic rant. He knew that House didn't need validation from other people, especially from people that didn't fully understand the lengths House had to go to save his patients' lives.
"It's completely ridiculous. A poor cancer kid has a few more months..."
"Andie had fourteen more months, House. She was around for her tenth birthday." Wilson interrupted. He had kept in touch with Andie to monitor her progress in her final months. Even if House wasn't interested in accolades, it had been his unrelenting determination to solve Andie's case that had extended her tragically short life.
"That's not the point. You were the one that held her hand. I just wanted to find where the clot was hiding." House shrugged his shoulders as if it had been a simple, boring case.
"No, I don't believe you." Wilson said quietly. Even though House had never spoken to him about it, he had seen the subtle change in House during and after Andie's case. House glanced across at him before he looked back down at the piece of paper.
"This is just about publicity." House quickly changed the subject. He didn't want Wilson calling him out on how much Andie had affected him. "Z-list celebrities hand out awards as if they really care about anyone, but themselves. The newspaper gets a two hour commercial. And some old woman cries on television while she tells us all about how she visits prisoners and changes their lives for the better. I'd rather stab my eyes with a pen."
"No, it sounds like lots of fun!" Wilson said dryly. "You'll have a fantastic time."
"Do I really have to go?" House whined even though he already knew the answer. He then ripped off Cuddy's note off the letter and scrunched it into a ball. He aimed for the trash can by his desk, but swore under his breath as it fell short of its target.
"I love my job." Wilson sniffed, jutting his bottom lip out and wiping away non-existent tears as if he was truly upset at the prospect of losing his job.
"She'd never actually fire you." House scoffed. They both knew it was an empty threat, but House also knew that Cuddy could make his working life very difficult if she wanted to.
Wilson then revealed his trump card. "I know it's not exactly the Nobel Prize, but it is a free trip to New York, House."
House's eyes lit up for a moment, but he quickly covered it with a grimace. "I'll have to wear a suit! And a tie!" He pouted at the supposed hardship of having to dress formally for once.
"Free. New York." Wilson repeated, knowing he had already won House over.
"You're going too, right?" House raised his eyebrows, eagerly waiting Wilson's response.
"Yes, House." Wilson answered as he stood up. "Don't worry, I'll be your date." Wilson patted House on the head, then broke out into a victorious grin as he left the office.
House knew Wilson was only teasing, but the words 'I'll be your date' echoed in his mind as House settled back into the chair and closed his eyes once again.