A/N: I like where this ended so, I don't think I want to continue, however, I'm always up for suggestion of new stories, especially Wilson-centric ones. I'd like to thank Kim and Rose, as well as all of you who reviewed, and apologize profusely for the huge wait.
I still don't own House.
Sorry for any medical mistakes, as I am not a doctor, and super sorry for the possible grammar/spelling mistakes… I think this chapter is only half edited..
House was on his way to Wilson's room, with the intent of getting some lunch, when he spotted Cuddy. He waved to her, and called, "On my way down to the clinic!" then slipped into the thankfully empty elevator.
The elevator stopped on the previously indicated floor and House followed the now familiar path to Wilson's room. He approached Wilson, who was dozing in his bed, and with no Cameron around to scold him, poked Wilson in the ribs with his cane. Wilson's eyes fluttered open drowsily. "What House?" he asked.
"Up. You have to start walking around today." House informed Wilson. "Slowly though, because I am in no condition to catch you if you fall."
Wilson struggled into a sitting position and swung his legs carefully over the side of the bed. He stood with some difficulty and together they made their way out of the room. They were nearly at the end of the hall before House noticed that he was ahead of Wilson. He let Wilson catch up and then furrowed his brow; he wasn't used to having to match his pace to Wilson's. House wondered how much Wilson slowed his normal pace to walk with the same strides as House.
"So, I take it you have clinic duty?" Wilson said, "And you're going to get me to do it."
House glances at Wilson, pretending to be astonished at his mind-reading abilities. House rolls his eyes, "What else?" He notices that Wilson is smiling. He's moving along at a slow, but steady pace, and he must still be a little uncomfortable on his feet, but he's smiling. "Why're you grinning?" House asked.
Wilson shakes his head, it doesn't matter, he just happy to be alive.
House sat in the chair, meant for parents, spouses, or friends. Wilson stood looking the patients chart. The girl sat on the bed. "You're an athlete…Yza? Is it EE-zah?"
House rolled his eyes, who cares how you say the name? You'll speak to the person for 10 minutes at the most. You're not supposed get a family history.
"It's pronounced EE-sah." The light-brown haired girl replied. "And yes, I am an athlete."
"You're having problems throwing and soreness in your shoulder area?" Yza nodded. "I think you've pulled a muscle in your shoulder." Slowly Wilson moved around to the girls back and gently massaged her shoulder.
She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out in pain. "Aha, right there." Wilson said, "I'm going to prescribe some minor painkillers, and recommend you to our physiotherapist." Wilson scribbled his signature onto the pad and handed Yza the slip.
"Thanks." She grinned, "When will I be able to throw again?"
"Not for about a month… unless you plan on becoming left-handed," Wilson warned.
She left smiling and House shook his head. "Why are you nice to them?" he asked.
"Unlike you, some people actually enjoy making other people happy." Wilson said, "I happen to be one of them," he left the room for a moment to get the next patient file.
He returned with three people, two guys and a girl, cradling her left wrist carefully. She also had a small but deep cut, on her right calf. The boy with spiky black hair was repeating how sorry he was. "Ray, I'll be okay." The girl said. The other companion was shaking his head ruefully.
"You know, we had this under control. You didn't have to jump into the fray." He chided.
"I helped you!" the girl replied, and House grinned noticing that she wearing a superman baseball cap.
"Yeah, well, you didn't have to tackle Ray to get him out of the way, and then proceed to get yourself injured in the process." PJ replied. "We're supposed to be helping the injured, not creating more injured people."
Wilson smiled at all of them, and extended a hand to both males. "Paramedics, I take it?"
"Yeah." The red-haired girl replied. "We were breaking up a stabbing, and I jumped on him," she jerked her head towards the dark haired person, Ray, "and hurt my wrist. It's probably broken."
"Let me clean and bandage your cut, and we'll send you down to x-ray, after I check your wrist." Wilson smiled at her. He cleaned and bandaged the wound, expertly and then nodded towards her arm. She held out her wrist obediently, Wilson gently pressed his fingers to different points on girl's wrist, he watched as she winced with each touch. "Yeah, definitely broken, and in probably more than one place." He handed her a slip of paper and pointed her in the right direction.
"God, I can't watch you be nice any longer!" House moaned. "It's sickening… and I'm hungry."
Wilson glanced at his watch. "One more patient then we can have lunch at noon… okay?"
House frowned but nodded, sinking back into his chair. Wilson glanced at the next file and poked his head out the door, calling out, "Adaire, Sara."
Two girls walked in smiling, one was dark brown with blonde streaked haired and looked worried the other one had reddish brown hair, was wearing a shirt that displayed what Wilson assumed was one of her favourite bands. The redhead looked like she was nodding her head to the music, she was arguing with the person who accompanied her, "I'm fine Cady, really, I feel like skateboarding… or we could go see that new horror flick! I'm feeling fine; I'm ready to have some fun!"
"Mhm..." the darker haired girl nodded, leading her friend to the seat. "She has a fever of 103 and I was just wondering if there was anything you could do for her. I think she's a bit delirious."
Wilson smiled at the Sara and said, "Hello."
"Hi!" She replied and then crinkled her nose. "Do you wanna come see the movie with me?"
Wilson heard House snort, and his sniggers as he tried to think of an appropriate answer, "No, but thank you, I'm not really a horror movie fan." He continued to examine the girl, while her eyes widened in surprise.
"But everyone loves horror films." The girl covered her face and sneezed. "Oh man. I must be allergic to something in here."
"She's not allergic to anything," her friend informed Wilson, "She's got a cold."
Wilson nodded. Sara smiled dazedly, as he finished up, "You're sick Sara."
She shook her head, "No! I'm not really! I feel fit as a fiddle!" Wilson then turned toward Cady, "She's got a cold, with a really bad fever, this should help bring her fever down," he handed Cady a slip, "And make sure she gets lots of rest and liquid. Here's my pager number if she gets any worse, but I think her fever will break soon."
"Well, that's it." Wilson said, filling in the last detail on his files.
"Lunch time," House announced.
"Do you still have my wallet?" Wilson questioned. "Cause if you do, I'm pretty sure we can't buy lunch, as I'll be broke."
"I'd never steal from you!" House said, "At least not money. Food is different." Then he handed Wilson his wallet. After purchasing their lunches they made their way to sit at the tables. Wilson picked nervously at his food, he kept opening his mouth to say something, then closing it, and it was driving House insane. "Spit it out already." House growled.
Wilson closed his eyes, took a deep shaky breath and said, "As soon as I'm discharged, I'm resigning and moving back home."
"Why?" House asked, curious.
"Because Cuddy told me that I couldn't live by myself now, and she's right, I'm going to need someone to live with me in case I suffer another heart attack and I have no family here." Wilson said, locking eyes with House. "I don't have anywhere to stay, in Princeton."
House rolled his eyes, "You are an idiot!" he half-shouted.
"Listen, House, I'm sorr-" Wilson began.
"Don't apologize idiot! You don't have to quit! You'll have a place to stay." House insisted.
"Are you… inviting me to stay with you?" Wilson asked incredulously.
House sighed audibly, "Don't turn this into something mushy. You have to write my scripts. Who's going to get me Vicodin if you've moved away?"
"Cuddy would." Wilson answered, "House, are you sure? Do you remember what happened last time?"
"Yeah, well…" House paused, "I need pills, and you need a roommate, so we might as well… help each other." House cringed at the end of his sentence.
"Whatever. Now that you're fine, I really must ask, where did you meet a girl named Honoria?" House questioned smirking.
"Well, you see, I was shopping."
"People who don't live off peanut butter and canned soup shop for vegetables and things." Wilson said.
"That's what you're for." House countered.
That night, Cuddy let Wilson leave the hospital; he packed up his stuff, and got ready to leave. House was waiting at the door for him, "You ready to go, Wilson?" he asked. "Wait, did you get your drugs?"
"I took my pills, House." Wilson grinned, "Stop worrying,"
"I'm not worried." House lied, "Let's just go."
"Can we stop at the hotel first?" Wilson asked. "I need to grab my things."
"Do it in the morning. Right now, I need you to cook some food while we drink beer and watch bad movies. So, let's go."
"Okay." Wilson agreed, and they left, this time, House made sure to walk a little slower than normal, so that their paces matched. When they arrived at House's apartment, Wilson travelled immediately to the kitchen, while House sat at his piano, fingers dancing gracefully across the keys.
Banter and arguments, Wilson cooks, House eats. They'd annoy each other to no end, but since House could not imagine a world without Wilson, he'd struggle through it. This was simply the way their weird, twisted, friendship worked. This was how things should be.