"We may brave human laws, but we cannot resist natural ones." ―Jules Verne
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When House was at home and the weather obliging, he spent his evenings on the terrace. The penthouse, built on the fifth floor of the lab, had an exceptional view of the sunset.
The sky glowed flamingo pink as the sun dipped below the horizon. In its place, curtains of purple and green light reached toward the cosmos, spinning as gracefully as a couple waltzing around a ballroom floor. The sight, a parting gift from the Juggernaut, was beautiful but as unnatural as a blue rose. When the dance came full circle, the colors melted away to black satin.
After the light show finished, House stretched out on the lounge and anticipated what the idiot apartment dwellers across the street might be doing tonight. Sex? An argument over infidelity? More sex? Cheating? A threat with a kitchen knife? Then, make-up sex?
He sucked on the stub of his cigar before crushing it out. Entertainment had been sparse this summer. Two families were on vacation, one family moved out, and the newlyweds on the first floor were working two jobs. He supposed they were squirreling away money to buy a home of their own. That left the old couple upstairs and the odd couple directly below. Fortunately, the husband was the jealous type, and the two men sniped at each other continuously until they shut off the lights. Then the real fun began. His night goggles were charged and stowed under his chair.
So far, there was nothing to pique his interest. A Friday night, no one had returned home. About to lift the receiver from its cradle and call Wilson, he replaced it when the glass-paned door behind him rattled. There was the thud of something bulky hitting the ground and a very Wilson-like, drawn out sigh. His spirits soared. Melodrama was still on the playbill. "Wife kicked you out again?"
"She did," Wilson said, dropping a prescription bottle next to House's glass, then arranging himself comfortably on the lounge across from him.
House hefted the container. A fully packed bottle. Wilson hadn't followed through on his latest threat to cut the quantity.
A manila envelope plopped onto the small table between them. He leaned over and thumbed the flap. Still sealed. He flipped it over to see who it was from. A very prominent and very expensive law firm. "I warned you not to remarry Sam."
"You did," Wilson said softly.
House steeled himself for more. One thing he had learned during the breakup with Julie was that Wilson liked to process out loud, and to go on about it... forever. "Any time now," he mumbled to himself.
Wilson's sole vocalization was a huff. He kicked off his shoes and sat like a lump.
House asked, "How about a beer?"
"Yeah, thanks."
"Not you. Me. And hurry. I'm parched after all our jabbering."
Wilson gave him The Eye, then padded inside. When he returned, he was already chugging at a frosty bottle streaked with rivulets of condensation. Droplets stained his shirtfront. The remaining bottles in the six-pack clanked invitingly as they landed on the table.
House suppressed a grunt as he repositioned his leg, and snagged a beer. He then put his hand out.
Wilson stood mystified.
"Where's my cigar?"
"For crying out lou-" The rest was lost as Wilson thumped back into the living room.
"You'll thank me later," House said to Wilson's receding back, satisfied that he'd loosened Wilson's tongue. Then, as an afterthought, he said, "And work your mojo in the kitchen. I'm hungry." Once a hole formed in the dam, there was no holding back the flood. He was in for a long night and needed sustenance.
As expected, the conversation stretched into the wee hours. Wilson followed the usual pattern, moaning over Sam as he had with Julie. He worked his way from the shoulda's and coulda's, onto angry accusations, and then took a long soak in a pity bath.
Miraculously, House toppled into bed before sunrise. Perhaps escalating from beer to brandy had helped; or Wilson couldn't stand the drone of his own voice anymore.
The conversation had promisingly petered out once. Wilson had nodded off. Before House could savor the silence two alley cats chose that moment to sing arias in the key of screech. Wilson's head bobbed back up. "I should've apologized…"
House bit back a groan. Desperate to cut Wilson off, inspiration came to him in the form of his ankle bracelet winking tirelessly in the dark. "Stop moping and celebrate. Unlike me, you're a free man. No shackles, blonde or otherwise, bind you. Do you have any idea why I'm under house arrest?"
Wilson gazed up from his glass.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized he shouldn't have ventured down this path. Like an incensed cobra rearing its mantled head, jealousy rose within him. It was too late to turn back. Wilson was looking at him intently. House had to proceed with caution. "You already know, don't you? Cuddy filled you in when you asked her out. You took her to museums and plays."
Wilson casually shrugged off the question. "When it comes to you, she's tight-lipped." He puckered his lips into a drunken kiss and traced a circle around it with his index finger. "With me too."
House paused. Wilson's little motion had caused the tiniest erotic reaction to bubble inside him. Exactly who had awakened the green-eyed monster? Cuddy or his best friend? "You haven't done her?"
Wilson dipped his head in shame and whispered. "Yes, yes I did."
"Seriously?"
"No, House. We're only friends."
"And she didn't say anything? Not a hint?" House waited for additional confirmation, but apparently Wilson had run out of words and was down to a cross-eyed, glassy stare. House decided to trust that look and divulge the down-and-dirty. "I dated Cuddy's twin."
"T-twin? As in, identical?"
"Yep. Right down to the same magnificent breasts."
"What happened?"
"Our relationship hit a snag in the Riverbed of Incompatibility."
"Last time I checked incompatibility wasn't a crime."
"It is when the snag is my steamcar and the riverbed is Cuddy's dining room."
A trace of undisguised disgust crossed Wilson' s face. Trust him to mirror what House felt in his soul. "I spent a year in prison for leaving the scene of a crime. When I finished my sentence, Cuddy sued me for the price of her house, loss of wages, and twenty other things only attorneys are capable of concocting to justify their fees. It was either pay up or stay under house arrest. " He pointed to his ankle.
"Until…?"
"There's no statute of limitation for doing time outside of prison."
"That's-s-so... unfair!"
House brushed Wilson's spittle from his cheek. "Leah Cuddy would agree with you. That's why she works for me."
Wilson seemed to rouse himself from his stupor, propping himself up on one elbow. "Then you and Leah…?"
"No. She likes to flirt, that's all. Her main reason for working here is as an act of defiance against her family."
Wilson nodded his satisfaction with the answer and dropped back onto the chair. Suddenly his arm shot up, pointing to a meteor shower. His mouth opened in slack-jawed awe.
House refilled their glasses and silently toasted his luck. Wilson had moved from corporeal to celestial bodies with barely a raise of an eyebrow.