Pairing: House/Wilson kinda pre-slash, if you squint you can see it
Rating M for adult situations
A/N/ Kinda AU, but more just me taking advantage of my artistic license. Tad Angsty at times
If only she hadn't asked how he'd known, then maybe the whole thing could have been avoided. Except, she bhad/b asked and then she'd guessed and then it was over. He knew then that he'd blown any chance of being with her and he wasn't sure what hurt more, that or knowing that if he'd just resisted the chance and had not looked into that file then maybe they could have been House and Stacy again, like Wilson was Wilson and Julie - couples, names running together like they'd been washed on too high a temperature.
If she hadn't asked then they could have been HouseandStacy and could have gone out with WilsonandJulie and life would have been just perfect, sickenly so.
Yet, no matter how good a doctor he was, House could not change the past so instead he drank, and went for a long ride on his bike. He wasn't over the limit, he hadn't take that much Vicodin before he'd climbed onto his motorcycle and he wasn't speeding. So, techinically, he should have been able to take the corner, yet, for some reason, unknown to him he just didn't manage it.
Even though he was wearing bike leathers he could feel the gravel rip open his bad leg, shit that was gonna hurt in the morning. He tumbled and slid with the bike as it landed and dragged him along with it. When it came to a stop, he was dazed but relatively unhurt, he checked himself over and found no broken bones and nothing that should require a trip to the ER. Of course, there could be something he couldn't see, but the chances of that happening at the speed he was travelling was mighty slim.
He pulled himself out from under his bike, hissing with pain as the handle scrapped across the open and bleeding cut on his leg. It took a lot of force to rip open leathers which is why most bikers wore them - they were perfect for protecting yourself from stupid injuries like the one House was sporting now. Of course, they failed at times and his had been a fair few years old which is probably why he would be taking home half the road with him. Pretty shitty sovenier.
He looked round, hoping to spot some kind motorist that would give him a ride back into town without painicking and making him go via an ER. If he went to the ER, Wilson would be called and the last thing he needed right now was to be interrogated about why he was out riding after having drunk.
Shit, his leg hurt. He felt the pockets of his jacket until he came across his Vicodin, pulling it out and popping the cap off he swallowed two to take the edge of his injuries.
Luck was on his side that night - though it might not have seemed that way because a man stopped once he'd seen House slouched on the floor by his bike. He came running over, cell phone in hand.
"Stay still, I'm calling an ambulance," he said, trying to sound calm when he was anything but.
"No, it's okay, I'm fine. I'm a doctor," House told him, mustering up his highest level of social skills that he could find.
"It's probably better to get checked out though, your leg looks pretty cut up. It could be broken."
"It's fine, I can walk, it just hurts where I've hit the gravel. Can you just give me a lift into town so I can get home?"
The man looked at him funny, then at his cell phone and then back at House. "You're sure you're okay?" he asked, sounding slightly relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with the paramedics or the police.
"I wouldn't lie about a thing like this," House told him, giving him his best smile
"Okay," the man said, putting away his cell phone. He leant down to help House stand and was pushed away.
"I said I was fine," House snapped, wincing as he put weight on his leg. He noticed the man staring at his limp and before he could start twittering on about paramedics he said, "old college injury, I always limp."
The man nodded, and led the way to his car. He didn't ask any more questions as he drove House back to his place.