CHAPTER TWELVE

Wilson ran a tired hand across his eyes, trying to wipe the grit that accumulated in the corner of his eyes. He knew from having caught a glimpse of his reflection in the stores glass doors that he looked as bad as he felt. His eyes were sandy and red-rimmed from lack of sleep. He looked, Wilson thought, like he used to back when House and he would stay up all night drinking cheap beer, watching B grade movies while providing a running commentary of the action. Bleary eyed and hung over the two of them would hit up the all night diner near the hospital and load up on T-bone steak and eggs before Wilson would stumble home, hoping he made it in the door before his wife woke up. Wilson laughed softly, covering his mouth with his hand to stifle the sound. He wondered what it said about his own sanity when being hung over was preferable to the present situation. He ran his hand across his face; the stubble sticking to it like burrs reminded him once again just how far from normal his life really was.

It had by the measuring stick that was House’s life been a rough night. As Wilson stood in line he tried to figure out what had triggered the nightmares that rocked him out of bed at 3Am only to find House clawing at the door desperate to get out. The night had started well, dinner, a shower and shave for House, pain meds and then bed. House went down like a rock and Wilson settled in to get some well needed rest. He never saw it coming- no whimpering that usually preceded House’s nightmares, nothing in the evening to trigger one, just a scream piercing the silent night. It had taken hours to calm House down before as the day broke new, he collapsed too exhausted to continue. Wilson collapsed on House’s bed, waking only when the ray of sunlight through the bedroom became too strong to ignore.

A tug on his jeans brought Wilson back from his daydreaming. House was sticking close to him, impervious to either the string that attached the two men or the curious stares of the other patrons in the shop. Like many other things Wilson accepted the stares with a sort of detached indifference. Normally, the two of them had Clarence to act as a buffer, but Clarence was off seeing his family leaving House solely in Wilson’s care. As much as he said it didn’t bother him, Wilson couldn’t deny he looked forward to Monday when Clarence would be back and Wilson could escape to the hospital free to shower, shave and change into clothing that were a little less user-friendly.

Maybe it was longing, or maybe it was nostalgia but something guided Wilson to the little hole in the wall shop near House’s place. House used to insist that the place, despite the fact that it was closed for six months (twice) for failing three consecutive inspections served the best burgers and shakes in Princeton. Going out with House was already a risky proposition Wilson figured a little more risk couldn’t hurt anything.

“What can I get you?”

“What?” Wilson was so busy trying to unravel House’s hands from the back of his shirt he hadn’t realized he was next in line

“What can I get you?” The teenaged clerk looked at him with the mixture of boredom and curiosity all teenagers seem to master early on.

“Sorry,” Wilson managed to get one of House’s hands out from the fabric of his t-shirt, “Two double burgers, one with bacon and two shakes umm medium, one vanilla, one chocolate.”

“$12.70, your order number is five.”