A/N: Just drabble. I'm playing around with a few ideas because I want to start a longer fic...tell me what you think! Any ideas?
Disclaimer: Do not own House MD or any of the characters.
Wilson picked at the old blanket which was gradually unravelling. Like his life. He sighed and tossed the tattered thing aside and lay back on the couch. He really was pathetic. Three - three - wives. Third time lucky, his mother had said. Hoped. What had House said? Oh yes..."You really like my couch, don't you?" Or something along those lines. He had been the best man (through much persuasion and two baseball tickets) for the first wedding. The second wedding hadn't been the same without House's sarcastic speech. He had been in hospital at the time and Wilson had felt guilty for leaving his friend throughout the entire ceremony. The third...he had thrown a ridiculous buck's night and refused to come the next day, complaining of a hangover. But Wilson knew he just couldn't walk down the aisle with everyone staring at him. At his leg. Wilson smiled sadly to himself in the dark.
"Don't you ever sleep?" Wilson looked up as the kitchen light was switched on. A dishevelled (well, more than usual) House stood by the counter, a dark blue dressing gown wrapped around his body. He yawned and blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the dull yellow light.
"Not tired," said Wilson apologetically. House rolled his eyes and begna filling the kettle with water.
"Coffee?" he offered. I don't want to talk. Wilson nodded and stood up, stretching. He walked to the kitchen and took out two mugs. "I like the black one." Wilson put back the 'World's Greatest Doctor' cup without complaint. He was being difficult tonight.
"Any interesting cases?" Wilson asked, trying to make conversation. House yawned again as he pressed the button on the kettle. The little bulb turned red and they stood there, waiting.
"No," said House finally. He tilted his head slightly and examined his friend. "You look awful." Wilson half-smiled as he tipped a teaspoon of coffee into one mug, then the other. They were like an old married couple.
"You're not going to win any beauty contests any time soon."
"I'm not the one who irons his underwear!" They slipped into the uncomfortable banter as they avoided what they really wanted to talk about.
"How's Cameron?" said Wilson slyly. House shot him a glare as the kettle gave a little ping and poured hot water into each cup.
"Sugar?" avoided House. Wilson shook his head. "You always take sugar."
"Julie didn't like it." The words hung in the air, wrapping themselves around his throat. House shrugged and tipped a heaped two spoonfuls into Wilson's mug.
"Time to live dangerously," he said, handing the hot coffee to his friend. Wilson blew gently over the creamy brown liquid and inhaled the comforting smell as it brought back old memories.