Current mood:	bored
Entry tags:	fic author: allybally123, fic genre: pre-slash/ust, fic rating: pg-13

Sympathy by allybally123
Title: Sympathy
Characters: House and Wilson; there isn’t really a pairing. Pre-slash if you like.
Rating: PG possibly PG-13 because of the‘s’ word! *gasps*
Summary: House finds Wilson on his couch after his divorce.
Warnings: Spoilers for Daddy’s Boy…Sort of.
Disclaimer: Not mine, everything belongs to FOX and its associates…Damn.
Feedback: Yes please!


“I thought I told you to return that thing,” Wilson said when House walked into the apartment with his bike helmet under his arm.

“The helmet? Why would I do that? It’s great for wearing around just in case I crash into walls,” House replied sarcastically, tossing the helmet on the piano bench and shrugging out of his jacket.

Wilson narrowed his eyes and went back to the book he’d been reading. “Julie kicked me out and I don’t feel like sleeping in my office anymore,” he said, answering the unasked question.

“Great,” House replied, moving over to where Wilson was lying on the couch with his book. “Move your legs.”

Wilson groaned a little and sat up. “I was comfortable.”

“I’m sure you were. Lying on a couch three times as comfortable as that thing in your office probably would be pretty nice. As for my bed, that’s even more comfortable so why aren’t you lying in that?” House reached forward and grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table.

Wilson decided it was better not to answer that question so he changed the subject. “I think there’s a game on.”

“What game?” House asked, flicking through the channels.

“Don’t know,” Wilson replied, turning back to his book, “I just think there is one.”

House snickered and settled on an old movie.

Twenty minutes later House asked, “Why’d your wife kick you out? It can’t be because you didn’t eat dinner with her the other night; you didn’t eat with me either by the way, since your excuse was that she isn’t speaking to you. So…what is it?”

“First of all,” Wilson said, his voice tight, “I didn’t eat with you because your parents came and bought you a sandwich in the cafeteria. Second of all, it is none of your business.”

“It is my business,” House replied, looking at Wilson who was glaring at him.

“Why? Do you care?” Wilson asked, going back to his book and turning a page.

“Nope,” House said, “I was just wondering how long you’re going to park yourself on my couch this time.”

Wilson sighed. “She’s tired of me not coming home in time to say good night.” He smiled bitterly. “Said I’m more interested in my job than I ever was in her. She’s tired of…”

“Of you being friends with me,” House finished, giving Wilson a slightly sad look.

Wilson nodded slightly. “That’s not the problem though. You’re not the big problem just something for her to throw in my face. She just doesn’t like coming second to work.”

“You’re the head of a major department,” House informed him. “A department where things don’t always run smoothly; of course you’re going to spend a lot of time there.”

“That’s not really it,” Wilson replied. “It’s more that I spend time at the hospital when I could be spending time with her.”

“Ah,” House said, “so it’s the affairs.”

Wilson shook his head a little, a shocked look on his face. “What?”

“The affairs; cheating on her,” House said, speaking as though Wilson were very stupid. “Seeing other women.”

“That did come up,” Wilson answered slowly, “and that’s probably the top reason as to why she got the divorce papers.”

“A husband who is married to his job is easier to deal with than one who is married to his job and sleeping around. So she decided that not only are you not interested in her but you are starting to replace her.” House shrugged a little. “Alimony?”

“Prenuptial,” Wilson replied.

“At least you learned something from the other two,” House said, getting to his feet and heading to the hall closet. “So you’ll be sleeping here for awhile because this isn’t just some spat between…whatever you two had going on; this is a divorce.”

“Yeah,” Wilson said, sounding defeated. “Another one.”

“The score is now Wives three James zero.” House walked back into the living room and tossed a blanket to Wilson who caught it and spread it over his lap.

“I love the support I always receive from you,” Wilson said acerbically. He watched as House sat back down on the couch and settled himself a little.

“You want my support?” House asked, arching an eyebrow. “Well, I support the divorce; she deserves better.”

Wilson gaped at him and then nodded. “You’re right.” He bit his lower lip and breathed out heavily through his nose. “I was an awful husband.”

“If you need to lament or something call one of your other friends,” House told him, turning the volume up on the TV, “I’m not going to hold you while you cry or wallow in self-pity.”

“I’m not a very good friend,” Wilson said quietly, looking over at House with what looked like resignation in his eyes.

“Stop it,” House snapped. “You’re a really good friend but you’re a shitty husband.”

“You want to show me your bike?” Wilson asked quietly after a few moments.

“I thought I was going to kill myself on it and you wanted me to return it before that happened” House replied, not looking away from the TV. “Besides, I showed it to you at work.”

“I know,” Wilson said, “but you didn’t let me ride it.”

House turned to look at Wilson with a surprised look on his face. “I’ll take you for a ride, I do have another helmet.”

“I know how to ride a motorbike,” Wilson protested.

“Depressed divorcees are not the kind of people I want in control of my bike,” House informed him.

“Drug addicts aren’t the best people to be in control either,” Wilson shot back, repeating his earlier words.

“We’ve established that,” House said bitterly. He nodded to his helmet and then to another one that was by the door. “You want a ride or not? It might get your mind off of things.”

Wilson nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

House pushed himself to his feet and limped over to grab his helmet. “Come on.”

Wilson followed House, grabbing the other helmet as they walked out.

When they got to the bike House put his helmet on and swung his leg over, clipping his cane to the side when he was situated.

“You’re not getting on until you put that helmet on your head,” House said, motioning to the helmet still in Wilson’s hands.

Wilson was fiddling with the strap. “I would put it on if I could adjust it.”

House rolled his eyes. “Let me see it.”

Wilson held the helmet out to House who fiddled with the strap and managed to loosen it a little.

“There, that should fit.” He held it back out to Wilson and his eyes locked on Wilson’s empty ring finger when James took the helmet back and put it on his head. “I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be.” He climbed on the bike behind House and wrapped his arms around Greg’s waist. “You have no reason to waste your sympathy.”

House smiled and started the bike.