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Wednesday Night
by Jody E.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor do I make any money off of them. I just like them, and like to think about happens between episodes.
This takes place a couple of days after Sleeping Dogs Lie. It contains no spoilers for future episodes.
It is also Wilson/House but it is strictly a BYO HoYay situation, since this is a friend fic.
It was 9:00 PM on a Wednesday evening, and James Wilson M.D. approached the apartment with a certain trepidation. House's motorcycle was parked outside, which meant that the good doctor was in, but that was standard for Wednesday nights. The question was...was he alone? Sure enough, as James unlocked the outer door to the miniscule foyer, he could see the stethoscope dangling from the doorknob of 221B. Damn. James was exhausted from an especially tough day, and right now he just wanted to be home; home, of course, being a relative term. Just as he was about to turn away, the door opened, and a feminine hand removed the stethoscope from the knob, bringing it and herself back indoors. James smiled in relief and opened the door. An attractive young woman stood in front of the mirror near the door, fixing her hair. From the depths of the bedroom, James could hear the shower running; accompanying a nice baritone voice, but the singing wasn't quite loud enough for James to make out the words over the sound of the water.
"Hi Jimmy. Were you waiting long?" said the young woman, as she repaired her eye makeup in the antique mirror.
"Hi, Paula. Nope. For once I timed it just right. Figured it was bound to happen eventually." he replied, "So, how's it going?"
She smiled and shrugged, "Same old, same old, you know, " which was her standard non-answer. Paula wasn't given to talking about herself, "How about you? Did you have that meeting you were dreading?"
James took off his jacket and hung it on the coat tree, and emptied his pockets on the hall table. "You mean the one with Julie? And the arbitrator? Yeah. That was yesterday."
Paula grinned, "That's the one." She started applying lipstick. "So how did it go?"
"Oh, swimmingly. There's nothing more fun than dividing assets."
"That's what I hear. So, I guess this means there's no chance of reconciliation?"
James grimaced. "Nah. She wants to marry the guy."
Paula smiled sympathetically. "I'll bet he isn't a Doctor, right?" she put her cosmetic bag into her purse and straightened her skirt. She wore a simple skirt and blouse, and her medium length brown hair was pulled back in a modest ponytail. She could have been a law student or a secretary, or one of the nurses or residents at the hospital.
James shook his head, "That's right, he owns a landscape business. How did you guess?"
Paula laughed, "Why do you think I have so many clients who are doctors? They just can't seem to stay married. Their jobs always seem to take precedence."
She took her coat from the same tree where James' coat now hung, along with a leather motorcycle jacket. James helped her into it, being a gentleman by training. She sighed, "You know, you could always give us a call. Maggie has lots of really nice girls. No need to be lonely."
"Thanks, but..." James looked embarrassed. The shower stopped in the bedroom.
"Oh, I know. Guys like you never need to pay for it. But Jimmy, what you guys don't understand is that you always have to pay for it, one way or the other."
James laughed, "Oh, you don't have to tell me. The problem is right now, I'm pretty much paying all I can afford. And then some."
Paula nodded sympathetically, "This is true. Anyway, I've got to get going. See you next Wednesday."
James opened the door for her. "Maybe not, " he said, "I've finally got a line on a decent apartment. Maybe we can all finally get some privacy."
"Oh," Paula remarked from the foyer, "That's too bad. I'll miss you." She indicated the apartment interior, "And he'll miss you. Not that he'd ever admit that. Well, bye." And with a wave, Paula was gone.
As the front door closed, the bedroom door opened, and Gregory House limped out. In a faded red Beethoven sweatshirt, ancient jeans, mahogany cane and carefully cultivated stubble, he didn't look like anybody's idea of a doctor. He growled at James, "If you're going to keep talking to my hooker, she's going to start charging you by the hour."
James growled right back, "Her name is Paula. And I figure that you tip her so much, she throws me in for free."
"How do you know how much I tip her?"
"I don't. I just guessed. And I guess I guessed right."
Greg grinned, "That's ridiculous. Everybody knows that I am a notorious tightwad." He hobbled into the kitchen and came out with two bottles of Grolsch tucked under his free arm, "Beer?"
"Thanks, " James took one of the bottles and popped off the cap. He sat down on the leather sofa that had also been his bed for the past month. Greg eased himself down next to him, and with some effort put his legs up on the coffee table. James did the same. He drank his beer. For better or worse, it was good to be home after a long day. James continued, "Well, I know you hate to pay for food. You've turned freeloading into an art form at the hospital. But last year you laid out a thousand bucks for that monster car rally without batting an eye. And you've got a really nifty CD collection, and some pricey musical instruments, so I figure, when it comes to, uh, entertainment, you don't mind spending the bucks."
Greg smirked, "Shhh...don't tell anyone. You'll ruin my reputation. Besides, Paula's worth it. She satisfies my needs..."
"And never opens her mouth." James finished.
"Oh, she opens her mouth, all right, "Greg said with a suggestive leer.
James grimaced, "Cut it out. You know what I mean. You pay her extra not to talk."
"Well, I put up with enough senseless conversation all day long; who needs to hear about a hooker's hopes, dreams and aspirations?"
"Or tell her yours?"
"Oh, I don't have any. I gave up all hope a long time ago, my dreams are nightmares, and that aspiration I once had about ruling the world...well, it didn't work out. Hey, did you have dinner?"
"Yeah. I always eat something at the hospital on Wednesday nights. I've got to do something to kill time until 9."
"Well, excuse me for having a sex life. I'm going to order a pizza. You didn't make any dinner last night, so there were no leftovers." he accused.
"Maybe that was because I didn't get home until 2 this morning, waiting for Mrs. Gonzales to die. And that was after the meeting from hell with Julie and the arbitrator."
"That was yesterday?"
"Yes. I only mentioned it three or four times. I wouldn't expect you to remember."
"Well, it's hard for me to concentrate with all that cacophony going on in my office these days. Foreman and Cameron spitting like cats. So how did it go? I'd think you'd have these things down to a science by now."
"I do. I think I must have subconsciously had everything we owned labeled 'hers' and 'mine.' So there weren't any real surprises. Except that it constantly surprises me how awful the whole thing is."
"Hmmm. Probably why I never got divorced. Oh no, that's right. I never got divorced because I was never stupid enough to get married in the first place!" On that, Greg heaved himself to his feet and grabbing his cane from the floor, hobbled over to the phone. "So do you want any pizza if I order it?"
"Will I be paying for it?" James asked wearily.
"Probably," Greg said with an innocent look, " I never can beat you to the front door. No matter how hard I try."
"Then yes. Order my half with peppers and mushrooms. I'm going to pee." James got up and went into the bedroom.
Greg phoned the pizza place and ordered a large pie with pepperoni on one half and James' veggies on the other. He went into the kitchen and tossed his beer bottle into the recycling bin that James had set up. Before James had moved in, Greg had been a shameless mingler. But, luckily for the environment, it was just as easy to toss the bottle into the bin as the garbage, so Greg did it, though not without the requisite whining. He got out another beer and one for James as well. He went back to the sofa and turned on the television, clicking on the TIVO menu.
James came back in and plopped down in front of the TV. "What's on?"
"I don't know. Just look at all this crap TIVO has recorded for me! Now why in the world would it think I wanted all these Masterpiece Theaters?"
"Those are mine, " James said mildly. "I like Masterpiece Theater."
"Figures. What else would one expect from a doctor with the world's most boring specialty?"
James rolled his eyes. Greg was in rare form tonight. "Oncology? Boring?"
"Sure. It's just like that moronic show that's so popular now. Deal or No Deal."
"You mean the one that listed all those times on your TIVO?" James smirked.
Greg said defensively, "I only watch it to observe Howie Mandel's OCD. You notice how he never shakes anybody's hand?"
"What has Howie Mandel's OCD got to do with Oncology being a boring specialty?"
"Not the OCD. The whole concept of the show. With you it's basically cancer or no cancer. If it's no cancer, you send them home; if it is cancer, you can only remove it, zap it with radiation, try to poison it with chemo without killing your patient, or any combination of the three. Boring."
"And yet somehow my patients never seem bored."
"Well, of course not. I didn't say it wasn't urgent or important life or death kind of stuff. It's just not intrinsically interesting. From a diagnostic point of view."
James chuckled, "Well, I do have to admit that I have never managed to diagnose both leprosy and the Ebola virus on the very same patient."
Greg's eyes lit up, "Yeah...wasn't that cool?"
"I'm sure the kid was thrilled."
"So, Mrs. G bit the big one last night, eh?"
"Yep. The whole family was there. All nine children, and umpteen grandchildren. Quite a clan. Nice people too. "
"You've been on that case a long time."
"Over a year since her initial diagnoses. After all, I can't love 'em and leave 'em like you can."
"Exactly. Boring."
"So...once your patients of the week are diagnosed and healed and sent on their merry way, is it too boring to even read articles about them?"
Greg frowned. "If you're referring to the whole Cameron- Foreman brouhaha...just..don't. I've had more than enough of that crap all day."
"Still not talking are they?"
"Not talking? Oh, I wish they weren't talking! They never stop talking. Snipe, snipe, snipe all day long!"
James frowned, "And you don't feel even the slightest bit responsible?"
Greg stood up restlessly, and headed for the door, looking at his watch, "How long has it been since we ordered that pizza? Don't we get it free if it's late?"
At that moment the doorbell rang. James smirked in triumph, "As long as you're up, Greg, why don't you get that?"
Grumbling, Greg answered the door and paid for the pizza, giving the delivery guy a more than decent tip. He brought the pizza in and plopped it down on the coffee table. "Here!"
"What, no plates? No napkins?"
"Sure, make the crippled guy do all the scutwork." Greg went into the kitchen and came out with two sandwich plates and a pile of paper napkins in his free hand, "If you want more beer, you're gonna have to get it yourself." He sat down and helped himself to a piece of pepperoni pizza. James took a slice of the veggie.
Seeing that Greg was happily absorbed with his pizza, James went in for the kill. "So, why didn't you read those papers?"
Greg reached into his pocket and took out his ubiquitous bottle of Vicodin. He popped the cap and took a pill, washing it down with a sip of beer. "I told you. I already solved that case. It's like re-reading a mystery when you already know that the Butler did it. And...I was lazy."
"But it is your job, "James said patiently, "You are responsible for reading all papers submitted by your fellows, and passing them on for publication. Instead you let Cameron's paper rot for four months in your in box, and signed Foreman's without even reading it. And you wonder why they're mad?"
"Well, the good news is that they're mad at each other and not at me."
"Oh...you think they're not mad at you? Have you even been listening?"
"Not really. Are you telling me that now I'll never get one of those mugs that say, 'World's Greatest Boss?'"
"Not in this lifetime, Greg."
"Well, this is medicine, James, not a popularity contest. I'm a damn good doctor, and thanks to me, the kiddies are learning to think for themselves. They defy me nicely now, even Cameron. Even Chase, the eternal suck-up!"
"Oh yeah? Have you even seen Chase lately?"
"Well, he's been keeping a low profile. Doesn't want to get in the middle of the Cameron-Foreman ethics debates. Can't blame him."
"He's been updating his resume. Shopping it around. You're going to lose him. Cameron too, if I don't miss my guess."
Greg put his pizza down. He reached for his Vicodin, but James gave him a look that showed he remembered that the last pill was less than a half an hour ago. He put the bottle back in his pocket. He looked shaken.
"I thought you were supposed to be so good at delivering bad news. People actually thank you."
"You can thank me later, after you've mended some fences."
"And just exactly how am I supposed to do that? You know how lousy I am at apologies, and all that diplomatic crap."
"Look Greg, they just want to know that you actually care...that their careers are important to you. Right now, you're acting like you just don't give a damn. Reading their work, giving them approval, criticizing them..it's all part of the job. You almost lost them once before, when Vogeler was the big bad wolf. Then, you did your best to protect them. But now, you're letting them down."
"Well, don't hold back now, Jimmy, tell me how you really feel."
James smiled, hoping that his message seemed to be getting through. "Well, you may be happy to hear that Cuddy has finally read Foreman the riot act, for not discussing his article with Cameron when he knew she was writing on the same topic. And Foreman did finally apologize to Cameron, which apparently he has refused to do until now. So things may be a bit more peaceful tomorrow."
"Jeez...when did all that happen? It sure wasn't happening all day today!"
James smirked, "Probably while you were busy getting it on with Paula."
Greg looked thoughtful, "And I'll bet that you played no small part in the whole thing, yourself. You always have to fix things, don't you? Even me."
"What can I do? It's my nature. Hey are you going to eat that pizza? I'm suddenly in the mood for pepperoni."
"The pepperoni is mine. After all I paid for it."
"Excuse me, but I couldn't help notice that it was my wallet you grabbed off the table when the delivery boy came."
"Was it? I didn't notice. But at least you'll be happy to know that you gave him a really big tip."
"Shut up and eat your pizza."
The end
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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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