sodiumbisulfite

 

 

 

"I cant believe you talked me into this." House tugged at his tie, loosening it up a bit around his neck, as he darted his eyes around the restaurant. "Look at this place. It's filled with over-dressed and underpaid people, shelling out money the probably don't have on food that probably isn't even worth it."

 

"Do you always have to be so cynical?"

 

"It's not being cynical, it's being realistic." House picked up his tumbler of Scotch and took a sip, opening the menu in front of him with his free hand. 

 

"And to think people can't understand why I love you. You're such a warm hearted individual."

 

House opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the waitress, who flipped open her ordering pad, and started to give a spiel about the specials that evening. House interrupted her. "Just spaghetti and meatballs. Al Dente if you can handle that here in this fine establishment." He lifted his menu up and held it out towards her without even looking up.

 

Wilson sighed, and looked at her apologetically. "I'll have the special, thanks."

 

After she had trotted off, Wilson raised his wine glass. "To many more years of...this." 

 

"And mind-blowing sex? I can drink to that." House clang his glass against Wilson's and downed the rest of it. Wilson smiled and shook his head, taking a sip of his wine. "Unbelievable."

 

By the time their food arrived, Wilson had finished half a bottle of the Cabernet he had ordered for the table, and House had thrown back at least four tumblers of Scotch. They were in good spirits, and only when Wilson cut into his dinner, did House get sarcastic.

 

"Mushroom raviolis? DIsgusting."

 

"They're actually rather good. Want to try?" Wilson held his fork out, a large piece of ravioli dangling in front of House's face.

 

"No thanks. I don't find fungus that has probably been peed on by a few wild animals while thriving in dirt, appetizing." He shoved the fork away with his hand. Wilson just shrugged, "Your loss."

 

By the time they had finished dinner, they both concluded that they were too intoxicated to drive, so they opted to walk the short distance to House's apartment. The walk home was done in silence for the most part, until Wilson spotted the the neighborhood duck pond out of the corner of his eye.

 

"Oh. My. God." He grinned wildly and started sprinting down the small hill towards the water, removing his tie, and flinging it behind him as he ran. 

 

"Wilson! What are you doing?" 

 

Wilson removed his suit jacket and tossed it, giggling wildly when the wind grabbed it, and flew it a few feet behind him. "I can walk on water, House!"

 

"Wilson-" 

 

"No, House, I can! I can walk on water, like that apostle, Peter!" 

 

Wilson started hopping from foot to foot as he unbuttoned his dress shirt, slipping one arm out and then the other, and then letting the wind carry that off as well.

 

House sighed and started walking down the hill. "Christ, Wilson-"

 

"That's right!"

 

"No," House sighed and shook his head. "How much wine did you drink?"

 

Wilson just laughed and slipped off his pants, and then turned towards the water, wearing only his boxers and his black socks. He spread his arms out wide, and turned his head upwards towards the sky. "I am going to walk on this water, and you are going to worship me as your God!" 

 

Wilson took a few steps forward, and then walked right into (not on) the water. He continued forward, until the water was up to his waist.

 

House reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his pills. He had a feeling he was going to need them, when Wilson began yelling out prophesies at the top of his lungs. 

 

"Have you ever seen such a miracle as this?!" Wilson turned around in the water and grinned stupidly at House. "I have walked on water! I have done the unthinkable!" 

House pointed towards Wilson's stomach. "Is that so? So tell me why you're up to your waist in that duck-shit filled water."

 

Wilson, arms still spread wide, glanced down. And for the first time since he had stepped foot into the murky pond, he realized that he was not on top of the water at all.

 

"I'm drowning! Oh please help...I'm drowning!" Wilson began to panic, waving his arms around wildly as he waded his way through the pond, onto the shore. House offered Wilson a hand, and Wilson took it, tears streaming down his face. 

 

"I could have died!...I did die!" He began to pat himself down, "I'm dead! I'm so dead!" He only stopped when House grabbed his chin in his hand, and tilted his face up for a better look. House smirked.

 

"You aren't dead. But you are high."

 

Wilson stood there, staring at House, looking as though he was trying to understand what House had just said. He gave up after a while, and began shivering instead. House shrugged off his own jacket and handed it to Wilson, who tied the arms around his neck like a cape. 

 

Fortunately for House, the walk to his apartment from the duck pond was mere minutes. This spared him the embarrassment of risking too many people seeing him with a half naked man, soaking wet with a jacket-cape around his neck.

 

When they arrived, House ushered Wilson into the apartment, and tossed a clean towel at him. "Take a shower and warm up a bit. I'm sure that'll help you feel better and calm down." 

 

Wilson just stood there, staring down at the towel. House sighed and pushed him down the hallway towards the bathroom with the tip of his cane. "Be quick, or I'm coming in to get you." 

 

When the door was shut, and House heard the water turn on, he made his way back towards the couch, where he flopped down and turned on the television. He put the sound on low so he could listen for anything bizarre coming from the bathroom.

 

"You don't say!"

.......

"Me too!"

.......

"Well what do you think about Rachel Ray?"

.......

"I completely agree. We should write her a letter!"

 

Wilson's animated conversation, which was progressively getting louder, woke House up from the sleep he had accidentally fallen into. He glanced at his watch. Two-thirty in the morning. He had been asleep for over three hours. 

 

"Oh yeah?"

 

House turned off the television and held his breath, listening. Who the hell was Wilson talking to at this hour?

 

"So...what are you wearing?"

 

House reached for his cane. Oh hell no, If Wilson's drunk dialed Cameron again...

 

He made his way towards his bedroom and peered inside. Empty. He turned and headed back down towards the bathroom. The door was still shut, but the light was on.

 

Sneaky bastard!

 

House opened the door, ready for a fight, when he realized Wilson wasn't on the phone at all. Instead, he was heavily engaged in conversation with the bathroom light switch. 

 

House pulled out his cell phone and snapped a picture. "Hello, this year's holiday cards." He smirked and slipped the phone back into his pocket. 

 

Wilson either didn't notice House standing there, or didn't care, and he lovingly ran his fingers down the switch plate. "You're so beautiful tonight."

 

House rolled his eyes. "Okay, Romeo. Say goodnight, it's time for bed."

 

Wilson leaned in and kissed the switch plate. Small pecks at first, and then he ran his tongue around the switch. House cursed himself for being so slow getting his phone out, because by the time he did, Wilson had turned off the light.

House led Wilson into the bedroom and shoved him onto the bed. He crawled in next to him and tossed Wilson a blanket. "You are so, so high. No wonder those raviolis were so expensive."

 

"No, I'm not." Wilson pulled the blanket up to his chin. "I'm in love with her."

 

House reached over and turned off the light, the bedroom glowing in a soft blue light from the street-lamps. "Of course you are. Now shut up, and sleep it off."

 

House was awoken about a half hour later by a persistent tapping on his shoulder. He rolled over onto his back, but didn't open his eyes. He just made an incoherent noise, which was just enough to get Wilson talking. 

 

"House! They're holding a banquet in my honor."

 

House opened an eye and glanced over at Wilson. He was sitting upright, hands clasped together and wide eyed with an excitement that House had only ever seen Wilson display when he was going down on him. 

 

He gave in. "Who is?"

 

Wilson grinned so wide, his eyes began to squint, and he pointed towards the wall opposite the bed which had a large tapestry adorning it. The tapestry, something House had picked up many years ago, was adorned with knights and swords aplenty. House breathed a sigh of relief that Wilson was witnessing a banquet and not a medieval execution. 

 

"Congratulations, Wilson. That's...really something."

 

"I know! They've prepared so much food, and look how they all bow down to me!" 

 

"Mmmhmm...," House was slowly drifting back to sleep.

 

"The pig tastes wonderful, thank you!"

 

House opened an eye, and looked over at Wilson, who was happily gorging himself on an imaginary feast. House laughed himself back to sleep.

 

The next morning, House found Wilson sprawled out on the bathroom floor, empty packages of Alka-Seltzer all over the place. 

 

"Morning. Now whose the drug addict?"

 

"You are." 

 

House smirked and spun his car keys around on his finger.

 

"Where are you going? You're supposed to take care of me when I'm like this! It's what being in love is all about." 

 

"I will when I get back. I ordered some of that mushroom ravioli you had last night and I have to go pick it up."

 

The sheer thought of the raviolis made Wilson want to vomit. "So, you want to get food poisoning too then, I take it?"

 

House just grinned. "You have no idea how badly."