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Tried and True
by Mer
After school, James liked to sit in the kitchen, doing his homework while his mother cooked dinner. When he was finished, she would let him help with the chopping or stirring. He was her sous chef, she told him, and James knew he didn't have to share her with anyone else in those moments.
He didn't have those moments with his father. The things he did with his father, he shared with his brothers. Peter was old enough now to graduate past pitch and putt, so at least once a month Helen Wilson sent her men off to the golf course while she played bridge with her friends or spent the afternoon at the spa. She smiled and laughed more on those days, so James learned to love the game.
The whole family sailed together and James loved those days best: his father at the wheel, James and Michael manning the sails, while his mother and Peter kept lookout for shoals and deadheads. James had always equated happiness with salt spray in his face.
Still, there were times when he wished he had something to share with his father alone. Peter had trouble with math, so his father spent hours going over his homework with him. Michael had trouble with everything these days, so his father took him for long walks or drives that left both of them angry and unsettled afterwards. Once James had deliberately failed a test, but the disappointment and worry in his father's eyes had hurt too much, and he'd worked hard to make his grade up.
James was skimming through a reading assignment when his father burst through the door. Joseph Wilson wasn't normally an exuberant man, but when something caught his attention he had to share it with everyone he met.
"The Ridge is having a Hitchcock festival!" he exclaimed, waving a broadsheet flyer at his wife. "They've just re-released five of his films for the first time in nearly three decades."
Helen Wilson sighed and looked up from the potato she was peeling. "You know I don't like suspense films. Why don't you take the boys?"
James's older brother Michael wandered in. "I'm busy," he said immediately.
"I haven't told you the date," his father replied wryly.
"I'm still busy." Michael grabbed the carton of orange juice out of the fridge.
"Glass," his mother warned. "When is it?"
"They're showing Vertigo and Rear Window on Friday."
"Definitely busy," Michael said, grinning at his mother as he poured a glass and then took a swig out of the carton for good measure.
"Peter has a sleepover at the Floms on Friday," his mother said, taking the orange juice from Michael and putting it back in the fridge. "And he's too young for Hitchcock anyway."
"I guess it's just you and me, Jimmy," his father said.
James had never seen a Hitchcock movie. He wasn't even sure he wanted to see a Hitchcock movie, much less two of them. But he knew how much his father loved old movies. "That sounds great. Hitchcock is cool."
Michael snorted and smacked his lips loudly. "You barely know who Hitchcock is," he teased. "You're such a kiss-ass."
"I know more about Hitchcock than you do," James retorted, which was probably true. But the next day he went to the library and read everything he could find on the director and those two movies.
"Vertigo was a box-office disappointment when it was first released, but now it's considered one of Hitchcock's masterpieces," he announced at dinner the next night.
Michael groaned. "You've created a monster," he complained. "Now we're going to have listen to him spout off obscure movie trivia for days."
"I want to go," Peter whined. "Why can't I go to the movies instead of some stupid sleepover?"
"Because you're too young," Michael replied bluntly.
"You wouldn't like it," James added. "Vertigo is a love story." He wasn't sure that was an entirely fair description, but it would make Peter feel better about missing out.
Predictably, Peter wrinkled his nose and dropped the subject. "Oh, well. Jake has a new Commodore, so I guess it won't be that bad."
Later, James washed the dishes while Michael sat on the windowsill, blowing smoke out the window. "What are you doing on Friday?" James asked, trying to sound casual.
Michael wasn't fooled. "Checking up on me?" He flicked the still burning cigarette outside. "Are the parental units using you as recon now?"
James didn't dignify that with an answer. Anything he said would set Michael off on a rant about annoying younger brothers and interfering parents. He rinsed a pot and concentrated on drying every streak of water.
"Jenny Ostler's in town this weekend," Michael said, smirking when James looked up. "Maybe I'll give her a call and see if she wants to catch up for old time's sake."
James was alarmed. Jenny was one of the nicest girls he knew and Michael had already broken her heart once. "I doubt she wants to see you after the way you treated her," James said, though he was afraid that wasn't true. Girls always came back to Michael, no matter how badly he treated them.
"It's been nearly six months," Michael replied dismissively. "She'll have forgiven me by now."
"That's not the point. You should leave her alone," James pressed. "You only want to see her to prove that you can hurt people and get away with it."
"Ah, yes, the gospel according to James the Self-Righteous," Michael sneered. "You think good intentions will stop you from hurting people? Everybody hurts everybody else. It's only a matter of time. At least with me they'll know to expect it." He jumped down and closed the window.
"So it's all right for you to go around deliberately hurting people," James retorted.
"Do you think it hurts any less if it's not deliberate?"
"I think it will happen less if it's not deliberate." James had never been able to win an argument with his brother - Michael was a master at twisting his every word or meaning - but he had at least learned how to hold his own. "Don't call Jenny just to hurt her."
Michael grinned and patted James on the shoulder as he passed by on the way out the door. "Oh, believe me. I have much better reasons for calling her."
That was exactly what worried James. "Michael, please," he tried, but his brother just laughed and walked away.
On Friday, James sat at the kitchen table and raced through Algebra equations. He wanted to have his homework done before his father got home from work. When he was finished he made himself a sandwich, then glanced at the clock and wrapped one up for his father as well.
"Have a good time tonight," his mother said, shooing Peter towards the garage door. She saw James's gaze dart towards the kitchen clock. It was twenty after six. The first movie started at seven. "He's just running late," she reassured him. "He wouldn't miss this for the world."
James tried to believe her. "We can always watch them on video, I guess."
His mother told Peter to wait for her in the car. "This isn't about the movies," she told James. "This is about getting to spend some time with you. He's been looking forward to that all week." She hugged him, holding on until he squirmed free, blushing. "You're growing up so fast," she sighed. "Soon I won't be able to hug you at all."
James felt badly for pulling away, so he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "You can always hug me," he promised. "Just not in public," he added, laughing when she swatted him playfully on the shoulder.
"He'll be here," she promised and hurried out to the car before Peter decided to walk to the Floms by himself.
James listened to the car pull away and grabbed his jacket, so he'd be ready to leave as soon as his father arrived. He looked up hopefully when the door opened, but it was Michael. "I thought you were going out tonight," he muttered.
"I am," Michael replied. "I just needed to pick something up."
His breath smelled of cigarettes and beer and James was glad his mother wasn't home. "Were you waiting for Mom to leave before you raided the liquor cabinet?"
Michael ignored him, rummaging through the fridge. "What are you still doing here?"
"Dad's running late," James replied, trying to sound nonchalant. But it was six thirty and at least a twenty-minute drive to the theatre.
"He probably forgot," Michael said, pulling out two cans of Coke. "He'll call in an hour and apologize. Promise to make it up to you. But he never will."
James wanted to protest, but Michael had only said aloud what he was afraid was true. "He'll be here in time," he said with more confidence than he felt.
Michael put the cans in his backpack and James caught a glimpse of a bottle. "Sure he will," he said with a mocking grin that faded when a car horn blared a short tattoo.
It was James's turn to grin. "Told ya," he said, forgetting his earlier doubts. "Try not to get arrested," he called back as he skipped out the door and ran down the driveway to where his father waited in the car.
"Sorry, kiddo," his father said as he backed out of the driveway. "One of my grad students cornered me as I was heading out and I couldn't get away. She's having a pretty rough time of it right now."
James nodded. His father always had time to counsel a student in distress. "I made you a sandwich in case you didn't have time to eat," James said, unwrapping it for him.
"That's my boy," his father said gratefully. "Always looking out for me." He munched on the sandwich as he wove in and out of traffic. "Was your brother home?"
James glanced at his father. His expression was open, casual, but the words were just a little too offhand. "He was just getting ready to head out."
"Did he say where he was going?"
Recon, James thought. He shook his head. "One of his friends from school is in town for the weekend." It was a stretch. He didn't think Jenny was Michael's friend. Not any more.
"That's nice. It's good he's keeping in touch with his old friends."
His father wasn't impressed with Michael's new friends. James wasn't either. He thought about the bottle in Michael's backpack and hoped he wasn't meeting Jenny.
They found a parking spot a block away from the theatre and raced each other to the box office. James had been faster than his father for a couple of years, but he slowed down slightly to let them tie. "Once adult, one student," his father told the cashier once he'd caught his breath. "Double feature."
"Movie's just about to start," the cashier said as he handed back their tickets and change.
"We'll get popcorn between shows," his father promised as they hurried across the lobby. They found two seats near the back of the theatre just as the lights dimmed. His father put his arm around James's shoulders and James leaned close, safe and happy in the dark.
Between films, his father gave him enough money to buy popcorn and drinks for both of them. As he waited in line at the concession stand, James heard a familiar laugh. He turned his head and saw Jenny Ostler in the next line over, talking to another girl. Jenny looked nearly the same: a little more confident, a little more serious. But happy. Michael must not have called her yet. Or maybe he had.
Before he could wave or say hello, the cashier asked for his order. "A medium popcorn and two small cokes," he mumbled. He paid for the order and wondered if he should just walk away and pretend that he hadn't seen her. But as he picked up the snack container, shifting it so that the two drinks didn't overbalance, he heard her call his name.
He turned and smiled. "Hi, Jenny." He didn't recognize the other girl and wondered if she were a friend from Penn State.
"I didn't know you were a Hitchcock fan," Jenny said, smiling at him.
James shrugged, careful not to jostle the drinks. "My dad is. He's been looking forward to this all week."
"Oh, you're here with your dad? That's really nice. Is Mike here too?"
James looked away, trying not to show his relief, and shook his head. He hadn't called. "No. He's not really into old movies." He hesitated. "He mentioned you were in town for the weekend."
"Did he?" Jenny asked, a little to eagerly. "I went to school with James's older brother," she told her friend. "This is my roommate, Diane. I dragged her home with me just for this double feature. We both adore Jimmy Stewart."
Diane nodded. "Didn't you just think Vertigo was the saddest story? He loved her so much."
"Did he?" Jenny mused. "I don't think he ever really knew who she was." She moved to the front of the line and James took that as his cue to leave.
"Enjoy the next movie," he said. "It was nice to meet you," he added, smiling shyly at Diane. They both smiled back and James blushed and turned away quickly.
"He's adorable," he heard Diane say, as he wove carefully through the lobby. He paused just long enough to hear Jenny's reply.
"You should see his older brother. Too bad he's a complete asshole."
But James recognised that tone of voice. If Michael called, she would answer.
"Why the long face, kiddo?" his father asked when James slid back into his seat. "Everything okay?"
"Sure," James mumbled through a mouthful of popcorn. "I ran into somebody I knew in the lobby."
His father stilled, pausing as he lifted his drink to his mouth. "If you'd rather watch the movie with your friend, I'd understand."
James sat up. "What? No." The thought of sitting next to Jenny Ostler in a dark theatre both thrilled and terrified him. But he was exactly where he wanted to be. "I want to watch it with you."
His father smiled and ruffled his hair, then gave him a one-armed hug. "Good. Because I can't think of a better way to spend my evening."
James leaned into the embrace. "I'm sorry Michael couldn't make it," he said, because he was feeling generous and he wanted his father to be happy.
"I'm not," his father replied. "I can do lots of things with your brother. This is just for us."
Even the cold drink sliding down his throat couldn't cool the sudden warmth that flooded James's body. "They're showing The African Queen and The Maltese Falcon next week," he said diffidently. He knew his father liked Humphrey Bogart even more than Alfred Hitchcock. "Maybe we could go."
At first his father didn't say anything and James worried that he had asked too soon. But then his father pulled him closer and kissed the crown of his head. "I'd like that very much," he whispered, as the lights dimmed for the second feature. "Good movies are always better when you share them with someone you love."
And as they watched the images flicker on the screen, James discovered that it was true.
Wilson wandered through the video store, surveying the selections. House had demanded he bring a movie as price of his entry; apparently Netflix had blacklisted him again.
House's preferences ran to mindless violence and outrageous comedy, particularly when he was in the middle of a difficult case, so he stopped at the action section, scanning for something tolerable that neither of them had seen. That proved impossible, so he moved to the horror section and grabbed the first movie that looked like it had both a plot and enough gore to satisfy House. On the way to the counter, though, he passed by the classics and glanced at the display. A title caught his eye and he lingered, his hand reaching out involuntarily to take the DVD off the shelf. He retraced his steps and returned the horror movie to its slot.
Notorious. Hitchcock's last black and white movie and the first one he produced. Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman. Nazis and spies and betrayal. Even House could find something to enjoy in that.
Besides, it was a good movie and he wanted to share.
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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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