cindylouwho | Uneasy, another drabble for the drabble-a-thon

After an evening at the movies, House and Wilson were headed home. Wilson stopped for gas, despite the late hour. House stayed in the car, and amused himself with the radio dial. That soon bored him, and he started going through Wilson’s glove compartment. House found nothing more than a pack of gum, some ancient maps, a parking pass from a seminar Wilson attended in NYC, and a decrepit receipt from a previous oil change.

A few minutes had passed and House realized that Wilson was taking an extraordinarily long time pumping gas. That was when House grasped that Wilson had not come out of the gas station convenience store. With his heart beating faster, and adrenaline coursing through his veins, House uneasily made his way to the convenience store door. He rationalized that Wilson was probably chatting up the cashier, that there was no reason to be alarmed. However, this did nothing for the fear growing in the pit of his stomach. When he arrived at the door, he found his anxiety was not without cause. Wilson was being held at gunpoint.

The perp’s back was turned toward him. Wilson looked terrified, as did the cashier at the counter. No one else was inside. It was a mild evening, and the door to the store was partially open. House quietly walked in and whacked the gunman on the back of the head with his cane.

By the time they gave their statements to the police (no Tritter involvement this time, thank goodness), it was nearly three when House pulled up in front of their apartment. Wilson was silent the entirety of the ride home. He looked pale and exhausted. House unlocked the door and headed for the liquor cabinet. He poured out two large measures of whiskey for himself and Wilson, which were tossed back quickly. They were followed by two more. House was hesitant to speak, in fear it would be the wrong thing. So they sat silently in the dark, embracing one another, until the dawn.