http://mnstrtruckslash.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] mnstrtruckslash.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] sick_wilson2016-12-10 03:29 pm
Entry tags:

Dial a Drunk

Title: Dial a Drunk
Summary: House gets a late night call from a drunk, and needy Wilson
Words: about 475
Characters: Wilson and House
Rating: Technically there’s no mature content but some subjects are very grownup. Maybe a PG13/T for teen type.
Notes/Warnings: Drunk!Wilson, and I see this as finished. I know there are lots of unanswered questions. I just don’t want to answer them all.


When his cellphone displayed a call from an unknown number, House almost didn’t pick up. Why would he want to talk to a stranger anyhow? But something inside him wouldn’t allow it. If asked, he’d swear he only answered to screw with the caller.

A robotic voice explained, “you have a collect call from,” and then Wilson spoke.

“Ja... Hic! Jay. Hic! -Jane Will Hic! Son.” He was whispering, voice high pitched and panicked.

“Will you accept the charges?” the machine asked.

“Sure, whatever,” he replied with a chuckle. “Well, well, well, what a surprise. I’m usually the one in the drunk tank.”

“Shut up! I need you to come and get me. Now.” It sounded like he was cupping his hand over the mouthpiece. House didn’t have to see his friend to know Wilson was all sweaty and trembling.

“What did you do?” he asked, rubbing his thigh and looking anxiously at the door. It seemed a million miles away.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” James murmured as he continued to hiccup. Greg imagined his friend huddled in a corner with tears in his eyes. That wasn’t like him but Wilson wasn’t made for prison. The poor guy was probably shaking; too terrified to lift his eyes off the floor. Musn’t make eye contact.

“Relax, Jimmy. It’s a Tuesday night. Holding cell is all drunks and druggies. You’re fine and my leg really hurts.”

“No!” Wilson sobbed. “I won’t make it all night..”

“Tell me what you did and I’ll be there within the hour.” His leg screamed in protest but this would be worth the pain. With any luck, he’d be able to blackmail Wilson into giving him some extra meds.

“I forgot to renew my registration, and I didn’t have my license. Or any ID,” he confessed.

“You tried to drive home drunk!” House shouted. He’d done some stupid things, but always called Wilson (or a cab) if he needed a ride. When there were no other options, he drank at home.

“No. Was planning to sleep it off in the car. Got caught by some idiot cop with a flashlight and too much free time.”

“Good news, Jimmy. You’re fine. Just stop crying and breathe. After we hang up, go punch the biggest guy in the room.”

“House! I’m in a,” his voice lowered to almost nothing, “dress and they think I’m a woman. You hafta come pick me up before someone realizes.”

“Fine, I’ll come get you but you’d better believe we’re gonna talk about it. I got a million questions.”

“I will answer them all AND let you take pictures. Hic! If hic! You get here in fifteen hic! minutes or less.”

“Deal!” House jumped up and headed out the door as fast as his leg would allow.

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