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Do Not Disturb
by Autumnus
That evening, House had initially decided not to make any attempt to do a productive thing. This wasn't much of a surprise. House had an affinity to spend much of his free time alone in his house recharging his batteries and taking advantage of valuable thinking time (he not only thought of the disease of a patient, he had to go over the patients motives that may have led to illness, analyze Cuddy's personal life, think of how all of Wilson's marriages had failed pitifully, and imagine how his team spent their spare time together.) All in all, this was good fun and he did not even have to get up and walk for it.
Friday night slowly drifted by. House had sprawled across his couch and lazily flipped through his channels until he hit Mythbusters. Absent mindedly, he stuck his hand in a bag of cookies and cocked his head at the screen, allowing the show to take care of the analytical nagging that never seemed to go away. That taken care of, he leaned back and went over the events of the past couple of days.
Wilson had not agreed to move back in with him. That was intriguing. If Wilson could no longer bunk up with his terminal fling, he had to have moved somewhere else. Not with House (obviously) and certainly not with Julie (even more obviously). Therefore, Wilson had to have either found another temporary stray puppy and hung with them or he had to have booked a hotel room. No way Wilson could have gotten an apartment and made it habitable in such a short time and he certainly did not have the time to go to the pound and find a new needy puppy right after the first one had shipped out.
Frowning in thought, House reached blindly to his coffee table and grabbed his pill bottle. Shaking two pills out, he swallowed them dry and replaced the bottle. Sighing, he sat up and grabbed his cane that was hanging over the arm of the couch.
Wilson chose a hotel room over kipping with him? House allowed the realization to tumble in his head for a moment. Why? Even though Wilson could more than afford a hotel room, why would he choose something so confining and expensive over simply moving into his best friend's house?
House shook his head and with a grunt, got up. He had taken a few weary steps to his piano before he realized he left the cookies on the floor next to the couch. Turning around resignedly, he limped back to get them and returned to his piano, settling down comfortably and placing his cane in easy reach. After a moment of thought, House raised his fingers over the keys and began playing November Rain.
It was hard not to feel just the slightest bit hurt. Then again, the desire to know why was quite strong and House did not have to feel the pangs of rejection raw. But, he and Wilson were okay though, right? After all, Wilson said so.
That damn Wilson. His decision made absolutely no sense. House had to know why. Wilson could not have been mad. House had done so many impulsive and pretentious things in the past. This time, he was completely innocent, and Wilson had a problem with him anyway.
Frustrated, House pushed his bench away from the keys and grabbed the phone sitting on the piano. Swiftly dialing Wilson's cellular phone, House lifted the phone to his ears and reached for several cookies with his free hand.
One ring, two rings.
"Hello, House" Wilson's quiet voice emerged from the phone.
"Question" House said, ignoring the greeting.
"Go ahead' Wilson's voice responded. He sounded weary, tired.
"Wha -otel ah yo in?" House asked, chewing on several cookies.
"Huh?"
"What hotel are you in?" House repeated, swallowing and reaching inside the bag again.
"Hotel- How did you know I was in a hotel?" Wilson asked. He absent mindedly picked up his own remote and stopped at Modern Marvels. Wilson was far too tired to get upset over another one of House's abrupt intrusions on his private life.
House rolled his eyes and took up his cane. Clutching the bag of cookies with only a pinky, House hobbled back to his couch and flopped down at it again. Apparently, the sling shot made from the football goal could not hurl people over the border. What a disappointment.
"Where else would you be, since you did not want to move into my own humble, warm, and shall I mention free domicile?" House answered matter-of-factly. He threw his legs up comfortably on his coffee table and, cocking his head, curiously awaited a response.
"Possibly because I've already bummed off you long enough. I was only interested in staying there until I found another option. Hotels are good enough for me" Wilson said, sounding rehearsed and not in the mood for further questions.
"You are a poor liar, my dear Wilson" House said, his own line very warn and trotted out.
"Don't pull your Sherlock Holmes observations with me now. Sorry I didn't tell you before, etcetera. I can explain tomorrow, I just want to go to sleep now, all right?" Wilson asked, quiet pleading in his voice.
"Sleep is fantastic, I would never deprive you of it. What hotel are you in?"
House heard Wilson's tired sigh. "The Comfort Inn off the exit of Applebees" he responded.
"Oooh, the Comfort Inn? The oncologist couldn't afford anything more ritzy?" House taunted naturally. He reached for his bag of cookies. A disappointed frown appeared on his face when he felt the empty bag. House reached for his cane to get up again.
"And pay for every night? No thanks. I just need a place to sleep"
"My couch is just as good. And freer. Did I mention freer? I don't think your home away from borrowed home has a GameCube either. You are missing out." House carried himself to his kitchen and looked on top of his fridge for anything else to eat.
"I'll survive, don't worry about me" Wilson said, rolling his eyes. He switched to Mythbusters. "Hey, that episode of Mythbusters with the alien-hurling slingshot is on. You should watch it" he commented.
"Already in progress. Are you staying in your room the rest of the night?" House stuck a bag of popcorn in the microwave and turned it on. He watched the bag dazingly.
"Uh, yeah. Why?" Wilson responded suspiciously. He got up and poked inside the minibar underneath the desk. Pulling out a bottle of wine, he settled back against his pillows.
"No reason." House replied simply, still watching the bag of popcorn expand. "Just wanted to see what shitty situation you are putting yourself in"
"Why the hell are you so adamant about me moving in? I expected you valued your time in peace and quiet away from everyone else. Look, I need to relax. I'll talk to you later. Tomorrow. And not in the morning either. No six am wake up calls, I have to speak with parents from the children's ward tomorrow and I need my wits for that."
"Oh, you'll be fine" House exclaimed, rolling his eyes and ripping open the bag. "You just need an excuse to hang up. Don't worry, I get the hint. I'll see you later."
With that, House ended the conversation and carried his popcorn back to the couch. Wilson sighed and took a long drag of his bottle.
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House enjoyed riding his bike down this highway. The Applebees Highway, as Wilson and himself had dubbed it was usually free of traffic and the lazy fields drastically contrasted with the heavily industrialized Jersey.
Parking his bike and grabbing his cane, House quickly limped inside the hotel and went straight to the lobbyist.
"Yeah, hi, I have a friend here with a room and I got to find him" House rattled.
The receptionist shrugged and turned to her computer screen. "Name of the guest, please. I also need ID"
House rolled his eyes and produced his state identification. "James Wilson. I'm Gregory House" he grumbled.
The receptionist idly took his card and stared at it and House for a moment, as if trying to find any feature that contradicted the card or the real thing. She then turned to her screen and typed a few things.
"Room 241" she finally said, returning his identification.
"You have an elevator?" he asked. She nodded apathetically and pointed in its direction.
House carried himself to it and pressed the buttons impatiently. Rounding a corner on Wilson's floor, House loudly pounded on Room 241's door.
With a yawn, Wilson pushed himself off his bed and peered through the peephole of his door. The craggy features of his friend dominated his vision. Rolling his eyes, Wilson unbolted the door and stuck his head out into the hallway.
"Yeah, thanks for the visit. I really appreciate it. However, I placed a "Do Not Disturb" sign on my door. I kind of meant it so I can't entertain at the moment" Wilson prattled, combing his fingers through his hair.
House stood there, leaning on his cane before him with two hands. With a half smile he shrugged and said "You are not even doing anything. You were probably in bed looking at the History Channel because Good Eats hasn't started yet" House pushed the door further open with his cane and, without invitation, hobbled into Wilson's room.
Wilson sighed and stepped aside to allow House in and to shut the door.
"What are you doing here?" Wilson asked, walking back in and finding House leaning over his bed rummaging through the minibar.
"I am here to discover the reason as to why you will choose a rathole, albeit pricey rathole over my place" House said as he selected a beer and leaned back against Wilson's pillows.
Wilson did not answer. He climbed onto the bed and lied down on House's other side. House turned his head slightly to peer at him. Wilson did look tired. He was wearing his McGill sweater, and sweat pants. House always found it intriguing to see Wilson in comfort without a choking tie and crisp collared shirt.
"I just didn't think it would be a good idea" the oncologist replied simply, not looking at his friend.
House snorted and took a long drag of his beer. "Oh, come on. Elaborate. I was in my home, pining for you. I have the right to know why you rejected me and threw me out in the cold" He turned his head on the pillows to look for Wilson's reaction. Wilson just rolled his eyes again.
"I doubt you were pining for me. You just want another answer to a question" Wilson answered, turning to look at House.
House raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Go ahead, I do want an answer"
Wilson half-frowned and leaned back to look at the ceiling. "I didn't feel that we would feel comfortable after a time. I'd rather salvage a friendship than jump into another..."
"Fling? Relationship? Flavor of the week?" House supplied.
Wilson didn't respond.
"Oh, please. Not like that was the first time" House pointed out, leaning over the bed for another beer.
"How can you be so casual about it?" Wilson asked, beginning to count ceiling tiles to distract himself from the uncomfortable and unwanted conversation.
"How can't you? If we were to count relationships I am much more of a prude than you are. Where's the damn bottle open- ah there it is." House took another long drought and peered at Wilson, eyebrow raised.
Wilson shrugged and raised his hands in defeat. "Didn't want anything to change. How about I call it testosterone getting out of control?"
"How about I call you a pussy? Oh wait, then that would work for the two of us!" House exclaimed, leaning over to the minibar again and throwing a beer to Wilson.
Wilson caught it and sat up. "Thanks, House. I guess I am. Which would then make this whole situation okay."
"I'm not gay, you're not gay. If Stacy strolled in here right now, I'd be inclined to have a threesome" House handed him the bottle opener.
"So you're just sexually deprived, is that it?"
"Not at all. I have Mr. Hand"
Wilson snorted and took a gulp.
"Don't forget, you're the one who came stumbling onto me." House pointed out blandly. "And lucky I had something to lean onto or else I would have gone crashing to the floor"
Wilson did not say anything. He drank faster and began to count ceiling tiles again.
"Yes, one mustn't come onto a poor cripple like that. I could have gotten injured!" House taunted, waving his bottle around.
"Well, I whole-heartedly apologize for that. I'll try my best to make sure it doesn't happen again"
House was silent for a moment. Wilson lapsed into silence also. They lay uncomfortably side by side- as if they were married and after an argument neither were willing to retire to the couch downstairs.
"You're a hypocrite, Wilson" House remarked quietly after a few minutes.
"So are you" Wilson responded. "I can't believe you are here defending what happened after you pushed me halfway across the room"
"Don't take it personally. I was caught off guard. Is that how you rope in all your wives, catch them off-guard?"
"No, usually involves a lot more courtship."
An awkward silence hung over the two men again. House leaned over to the minibar.
"Another one, House? You have to go on your bike back home, watch it."
"Oh please" House replied, ripping off the bottlecap. "You're not so concerned about me popping Vicodin all day. Speaking of which" House rested his bottle on the bedside table and reached inside his pocket for his pill bottle.
"You are always taunting me about needing to be in a relationship, and you are probably right." Wilson said quietly, unexpectedly. He rolled over to face House, a resigned expression on his face. "I needed one so much I came to you"
House theatrically placed a hand on his heart. "Oh, that hurts to be a last resort" he said sarcastically, grabbing his beer bottle again.
"I didn't mean it like that. I guess its just how I am."
House paused in mid-swig and looked at Wilson. "It is just how you are. It's how God made you" he quoted.
Wilson smiled. "We're okay"
House looked to the ceiling. "Yeah, we're okay."
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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 NBC/Universal, 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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