moose_mcmoose | Great Expectations

Title: Great Expectations
Characters/Pairings: House/Wilson, House/Cuddy (alluded to only)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 514
Disclaimer: Not mine. A shame, as then I could buy some new t-shirts. (I HAVE FINALLY GOT THE JEANS)
Summary: What you expect is never necessarily what you will get. Spoilers for end of season 6 onwards....sort of....-ish

He'd expected pain. Something like a small, twitching reverb in his chest whenever he thought about it.

He'd expected misery. That horrible, dull fog in his head, clouding his thoughts, bleaching everything into negative.

He'd expected a sense of loss. A pining for something that was no longer in his grasp.

But nothing seemed to live up to his expectations.

The pain, the misery, the loss was nowhere to be found. He'd looked, he'd sat twiddling his anxious thumbs on the rim of his overused coffee cup as he waited for the inevitable turn of his emotions. He'd paced his office. He'd scribbled on pointless paperwork and scrutinized endless CT scans and MRIs. He'd driven his Volvo around most of the back streets of Princeton actively seeking what he knew was to come.

And...nothing.

Two weeks had passed and he had felt nothing. Not a twinge of sadness, not a single tear of despair, no urge to shrug in exasperation.

Now he's not sure whether he should be concerned or pleased.

Before his mind can wander to other thoughts, his cell phone angrily jerks along the coffee table.

"Hello?", is his monotonous greeting.

"Save me."

He could only sigh a hollow breath. "What have you done now?"

"Cuddy wants us to double date. Tonight. I don't know about you but that's a physical manifestation of my own personal version of hell. Can you conveniently fall down the stairs or can Sam get her hair caught in the toaster?"

Sam...

Wilson waits, waits for it to set off. Surely, the mere mention of her name will create something. He clears his throat in preparation and mutters on. "I guess I could make something up." Nothing. Just that same sensation of hanging in limbo.

"Well..."

"Well... you haven't given me much time." Anything would do at this moment, he had no fighting urge to play House's games. "Just say I'm ill. I have a cold or something, I dunno. Why did you even call me about this anyway? You could have made a more elaborate excuse all by yourself."

"I need to make it look like I have actually tried to call you. I thought maybe calling you would make it so."

"Ah deception. Nice."

"Oh don't moan just because I've disturbed your make out session. At least you don't have a whining child to contend with."

No, just a non existent partner to contend with. Wilson bit his tongue, now was the not the time to let it slip. He'll find a better time. Sometime. Soon. Hopefully. "Well enjoy whatever you get up to."

"I'll tell you the details tomorrow, in all their naked glory."

"I'd rather you-" The call went dead in Wilson's ear. "didn't." The last word escaping as an weary sigh.

Tossing the cell phone back onto the coffee table, he rose from his seat and padded into the kitchen, grabbing a mug from the corner cupboard as he passed.

He only needed one full mug of rice to cook with these days. Any more and it would just be a waste.

Title and lyrics from the LJ-cut taking from Great Expectations by The Gaslight Anthem