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Bicycle
by LiLi
Things liked to fall apart when he wasn't concentrating on them. And he rarely concentrated on his marriages. There were, after all, more important things to attend to. His job -- patients, doctors, friends. His life was in a building that didn't contain his wife. He liked to think that he could change that if he only took the proper steps. That it was entirely his fault that his marriages went to shambles, because that way, he'd be able to fix it.
James Wilson realized all too late that an expensive night out wouldn't cut it this time around. Not with Julie.
That night was spent on his own couch, remote in one hand, half-eaten Milky Way in the other. It was a rare occassion that he ate candybars; it was also, thankfully, a rare occassion that he sleep on the couch. And, as he vaguely discerned the noises of suitcases and closet shufflings over the television snow, he knew this would be the last time he'd be forced to sleep on the couch.
Wilson came into work late. His tie was on crooked. His briefcase hadn't made an appearance that day. House had seen this before. Unfortunately.
"What did she take?" House ambled his way behind the slowly walking Wilson, leaning on his cane as he stopped at the entrance, watching the silent oncologist move towards his desk. "Please say she didn't take the surround sound system. Not our BABY." His face quirked a bit with his words, remembering the special occassion when they'd spent an entire afternoon setting the damned thing up -- and the entire night 'testing' it with B movie after B movie.
Wilson sat down carefully, apparently having forgotten that he had a coat that's usually supposed to come OFF before doing so. "She wants everything." His voice seemed the same, but as he locked gazes with his friend, House saw pale skin and a look that was -- what, defeat?
"Don't tell me you didn't see this coming." House's face was blank, and his tone was even. His eyes told a different story.
Wilson managed to shrug, causing him to remember the coat, and he stood up. "I don't like keeping a failing marriage in my conscious knowledge," he replied, finally shrugging off his coat and heading for his coat hanger.
"Oh, right, that's more for the corner of your head devoted to supression, right? Like falling off your tricycle in front of your entire kindergarten class." House paused. "You DO know how to ride a bike, right?"
"It's been a long time." Wilson stayed at the coat hanger, his back towards House. "But I think I can manage."
House tilted his head slightly, staring at Wilson's back. "Are you sure?"
Wilson turned. His eyes were reddened, but his cheeks were dry. "I just need to get some practice in. Remember what it's like."
House nodded, then opened his mouth. Then closed it, pursing his lips in quick thought. "Remember my reuben. I'll pay you back." And then he was gone, limping off to fulfill his daily requirement of all the clinic hours he could stomach.
Wilson stood at the coat hanger for a long moment, contemplating. It was going to be a long day... except for maybe lunch with House. But 45 minutes of comfort would do little for his overall mood. Resigning himself to what may come, he sat at his desk with a sigh and picked up a file.
He had the next day off, and he was almost as touched as he was surprised when House dropped by unannounced. Under his arm was one large box, a picture of a bike on the cover. Thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. The tiny, complicated, 'lose one under the couch and kiss it goodbye with the vaccuum' kind.
Wilson smiled as he made way for his friend. "Not quite what I expected... not that I know what I expected to begin with."
"Figured we could do something... simple." House handed over the box and headed straight for the couch, his limp more prominent, leading Wilson to believe that he must've walked a bit before actually knocking. "Besides, I give you a REAL bike and she'll call it valuable property and fair game." Easing down onto what he knew to be his side of the couch, he pointed the cane at Wilson -- or rather, the box. "She can't possibly take this away from you. Unless she LIKES looking like a school bully." He paused, lowering his cane and raising an eyebrow. "That tricycle story, was it--"
"Absolutely untrue thank you very much," he answered in a breath, smiling wryly as he flumped down next to House, moving the bric-a-brac off the coffee table and dumping down the contents of the box. "Besides, YOU made that up."
House tilted his head, watching Wilson start to pick out the corner pieces as his mind worked overtime. Moments like this tended to do that to him. Wilson felt the eyes on him and turned slightly, one eyebrow raising slightly in question.
"What?"
Nodding to himself, House leaned forward, holding Wilson's gaze for a brief moment. "Well. She didn't take EVERYthing." And with that, he starting picking out the more colorful pieces, as if his remark were totally flippant and unrelated to anything serious.
Wilson didn't have to think too hard on that. The smile spread slowly on his face, and then he went right back to putting the puzzle together, side by side with the one thing he knew wasn't going to completely fall apart. He also knew immediately that he was going to fall asleep on the couch again -- probably from watching too many late night B movies.
And really, c'mon... who needed expensive nights out, anyway.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of Fox Television, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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