Title 12 Drabbles
Rating PG-13
Pairing House/Wilson, House/Wilson/Cuddy
Word Count 1,200
Spoilers None
Summary Twelve unrelated drabbles, just like the title says. Written while listening to Noe Venable's Boots.
A/N The thing about drabbles...you do one batch, then you want to do more. Or maybe I'm just extra-fangirly because Season 4 is so close to starting.



Boots
Normally, you keep a count of your drinks while out; at home, you can always black out in relative safety. But today it feels like too much effort. You're fairly sure it hasn't been many, but can't prove it.

You called Wilson a while ago. You're not sure how long ago, but you're fairly sure it's been long enough for him to be here.

You down drink number unknown.

Before he sits down, you know he's there. “What's up?” He asks. You know Julie is at home, waiting, and pretend not to care. But that does mean something to you.

Prettiness
You never liked ties.

Then again, you don't know how to tie one. That's something you always left up to Mom, various girlfriends, Stacy, even Cuddy (to her annoyance), and last time you had to wear a noose-as-accessory, Wilson.

This time around, the comparison to a noose is disturbingly apt, even though Wilson picked it out. You think there's a mixed metaphor in there.

You don't get Wilson to tie this one, because, for all his attempts to appear fine (you hate that word), he probably wants to strangle you with it.

Besides, you've asked enough of him.

Tinkerbell
You don't like leaving House alone these days. The infarction, he could have recovered from. The first few days after Stacy left, you thought the same.

By now, you think you'd be better at spotting denial.

These days, you rush over to House's apartment after work and check on him long before it occurs to you to call Bonnie. By the time you remember, it's usually too late.

You're in a rush to see House, but not out of anxiety today. Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital has a new Dean - someone who can stomach the idea of hiring Dr. Gregory House.

Stolen Thing
The shortest time you've gone from happily married to adulterous: twenty-four days.

The last time you really felt guilty was around number two, what was her name, her name, how can you forget her name – well, you are kind of preoccupied – but it was only - Bonnie, that was it. Probably should have stopped after the third (name, name, name? Fuck it); didn't even feel anything.

You felt something this time; definitely not guilt (you know that one well), but maybe a little stupid. The word's sitting on the tip of your tongue. You roll onto your back and exhale.

Happy. That's it.

My Insomnia
“What the hell, House?”

“Can't I call a friend?”

“Not at – at...whatever the hell it is now!”

“Didn't know you Jews were cheap with time, too.”

“Why are you calling, anyway?”

“Just wanna talk.”

“What?”

“You're right, that's a blatant lie. Can't sleep.”

“So, because you can't sleep, I don't get to?”

“Yep.”

“I'm hanging up.”

“No you're not.”

“No?”

“You're up now. Might as well keep talking.”

“Your logic astounds.”

“Among other things.”

“What was that? Are you in bed?”

“Yep.”

“Why, might I ask?”

“I'm not a horse.”

“You're slurring your words. House?”

“...”

“House?”

“...”

“...Good night, House.”

Climb
Your favorite hobby has been watching Wilson while he watches women he isn't married to. Okay, so lately the married part doesn't apply, but it's still entertaining.

You'd think it would be even more entertaining now that you know everyone's fair game, every look of his is suspect.

Oddly, no.

At least with women - if you failed to scare them all off - you knew Wilson would be distracted for a month or two, tops, before everything returned to normal. Rinse and repeat.

But a man, that changes a few variables; you can't begin to predict their effects without a control.

Happiness
House showed up unexpectedly (does he ever do the expected?) and persuaded you to come outside, just to talk. You'd only be a few minutes; that's what you told Katie.

Somehow that turned into a short drive. That's okay, you told yourself. She'd understand. It's not like your marriage was going to collapse over this.

You think House says something about a road trip, but you can't hear him over the radio, playing the most obnoxious music he could find. You roll a window down and feel the wind whip past you as House goes further above the speed limit.

Look, Luck
Usually, you just collapse into bed, wake up in the morning, and do it again. Tonight, even though the bus ride wore you out, you have too much angry energy to sleep; you want to bash House's skull in.

You turn on the TV, flipping through the channels two and a half times, knowing there's nothing on that you actually want to see. You wish House were here.

Well, damn. You want to beat him senseless, but still want him around. You must be in love.

You flip through the channels a few more times before settling on the news.

Julia
When you get tired of feeling, pain or otherwise, you take the pills.

When you get tired of being numb, you swindle some money out of Wilson to give to a woman who normally wouldn't give you the time of day, and you would have no interest in.

You hate it when they talk.

When you get tired of feeling, you drink and take the pills.

When you get tired of being numb, you go to Wilson, who puts up with you, for some reason. But he's no panacea, either.

You hate it when he looks at you like that.

Wild Blue & Yonder
House is still missing.

It's been three months. He said nothing, and didn't take anything with him, as far as you could tell when you visited his apartment, entering with your copy of the key.

A year. You continue to pay the rent, thinking money and time solves everything. You still think of him every day.

A decade. Objectively, you know he's not coming back; either he doesn't want to, or he's dead, just like your brother.

Quarter century. You don't want to let go, but the details have mostly faded.

It's like he was never here.

You feel empty.

Don't Stop Crying
House comes into your office and starts rearranging the books on your shelf, and when you finally give in and acknowledge his presence, he starts ranting about something half-heartedly. You know this routine well; it hasn't changed the slightest over the years.

You'll probably spend the rest of the night at his place, maybe make dinner, because that's all you can ever do. He doesn't like sympathy or his mistakes being exposed.

He hasn't said anything, so he probably hasn't figured out what went wrong. Yet. You hope he can solve this puzzle sooner rather than twelve years later.

In Memoriam
Lying next to just House feels stranger than that first night the three of you overflowed the same bed. From the moment you wake up to the moment you lie down, her absence fills every corner of your lives almost more than her actual presence had, and it's suffocating.

Neither of you have talked about what to do with Cuddy's things, and you don't even know how or when to start the conversation.

There was a point, a few years ago, that you became sure nothing could come between you and House.

You were right, ironically, you think to yourself.