“How about that.” Wilson tried to turn the page.

“We always go see the Zombie Attack movies on the first weekend,” House told him.

“Just because you forced me to take you to the first two--”

“Exactly. It’s a tradition.”

“Even if it was, we couldn’t go this weekend,” Wilson said. “Maybe you’ll be changed back next weekend, and you can go then.”

“I don’t have to be changed back to go to the movies. Actually, we should go to lots of movies. You’ll only have to buy one ticket.” Of course, it was at the refreshment stand that the movie theaters made their money, and Wilson wouldn’t be saving anything there. He decided not to mention that.

Wilson picked him up, turned the page, and put him back down. “I’m not taking a teddy bear to the movies. People will think I’m some kind of lunatic.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t want people to think I’m a lunatic.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t. Why don’t we rent the first two Zombie Attacks and watch them here?”

“Because I already saw those! I want to see the new one.” Wilson was a little slow sometimes.

“We can have snacks. I’ll make some really good snacks for while we’re watching them.”

House hesitated. “Like what?”

“Uh…parmesan-proscuitto pinwheels with phyllo dough?”

That did sound good. “What about those mushroom turnovers that you sometimes get at a party?”

Wilson opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, like a fish. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

“Okay. You can make me those after we get back from the movies.”

#

Wilson knew that after refusing to take House to the movies, he was in for it. However, he hadn’t quite been prepared for the hours-long program of whining, begging, manipulating, and threatening that ensued. House had run out of logical arguments after the first twenty minutes. Then he’d gone on to holding up items of Wilson’s personal belongings and describing what would happen to them if Wilson didn’t capitulate. Since Wilson currently enjoyed a considerable physical advantage over him, this ploy was less effective than usual: Wilson simply took whatever it was away from him and put it on a surface more than 15 inches from the floor.

After giving up on threats, House tried offering various incentives: lunch on him, help with a case, even a day free of remarks about his hair. The latter was tempting, but Wilson managed to hold firm. As much as he wanted to make House happy, he did not want to be seen in public taking his Teddy to the movies.

Next came a brief respite, during which House camped out under the piano with drawing paper and markers. His project kept him busy for almost half an hour, which Wilson used to have an uninterrupted thought and use the toilet in privacy.

However, his break was soon over when House came up to him holding a rolled sheet of paper in his paws. “I made you something,” he said.

Wilson knew perfectly well something was up. “Okay. Let’s see it.”

House gave him the paper.

It was a handsome certificate, with ornate borders in different colors. It read:

This certificate entitles the bearer to

One day free of all

Pranks, teasing, annoyances, phone calls

Requests for snacks, text messages, etc.

From Gregory House

“Wow,” Wilson said, reading it. “I bet I could get a lot for this at the hospital’s silent auction.”

House frowned. “Well, okay. But you can only have it if you do something for me,” he said slyly.

“I’m not taking you to the movies.”

House snarled and ripped the certificate out of his hand. “Well, fuck you then.”

“Sorry.”

House sulked for about fifteen minutes after that, laying under the coffee table. Wilson might have even begun to feel sorry for him, except that he kept groaning and giving Wilson pointed looks, as if to make sure it was clear exactly how much he was suffering.

Once he was done sulking, House climbed up onto the couch next to Wilson, who was still trying to read the paper. “Wilson.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Wilson dared to hope that the question was going to be something new. “Okay.”

“Can we go to the movies?”

“No.”

“Can we go to the movies, please?”

“No.”

“Can we go to the movies, please please?”

“No.”

Things continued in that vein for some time. When House was up to fifteen “pleases,” Wilson couldn’t take it anymore. He snatched House up by one arm. “You want to go somewhere?” he demanded.

“Um…” House said.

“You want to go somewhere, I’ll put you somewhere.” Wilson stormed over to the coat closet and jerked the door open.

“Wilson!” House squealed as Wilson chucked him in.

Wilson slammed the door on him.

#

Well, this was certainly unexpected.

Also very dark. House got to his feet, leaning against the vacuum cleaner . He felt a little shaky, like being tossed into the closet had knocked his stuffing loose or something. And was it just him, or was it kind of chilly in here? He shivered, folding his paws against his chest. “I’m sorry, Wilson!” he called, but there was no answer.

He sat down hard on his tail, rubbing at his face with his paws. Damn cold was making his eyes water.

#

Wilson had actually made it the whole way back to the couch before it hit him that he had just thrown his best friend in the closet. Hurrying back to the closet, he opened the door and found House huddled on the floor next to the vacuum cleaner. “House, I’m so sorry,” he said, picking him up and giving him a cuddle.

House burrowed into his chest. “’m sorry, Wilson. I’ll be a good bear.”

“It’s okay, buddy.” Wilson patted him as he returned to the couch. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

House shivered against him. “You’re not supposed to throw me places.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Wilson was shocked and ashamed of himself. House’s behavior had been obnoxious--but there was no excuse for violence. When he’d encountered child abusers and wife beaters during his med school ER rotation, he’d listened to their stumbling excuses and thought smugly, if you were a real man, you’d have been able to control yourself.

Now, here he was. He patted House’s back and said again, “Sorry.”

House snuffled. “I’m sorry, too.”

“You didn’t--” Well, actually, he had done something wrong. “Okay.”

“D’you forgive me?”

“Yeah, buddy, I do.”

“Good. I forgive you, too.” After just a moment, House said, “You know what might make me feel better?”

Wilson had a feeling he did.

On to Chapter 17!