Author: Regency
Title: Rather Be In Vegas
Pairing: Wilson/Amber
Rating: PG
Warning: implied character death, AU
Word count: 626
Spoilers: vague House’s
Head/Wilson’s Heart.
Summary: Wilson gets married again, but House isn’t
there.
AN: Constructive criticism is always welcome, folks. Hit
me with your best shot.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any characters recognizable
as being from House, M.D. They are the property of their respective producers,
writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money
was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.
~!~
Wilson didn’t want to think about House
on his wedding day. He tucked a flower into his lapel—the rose she liked, the color she chose—and tightened his
own tie. He carried the rings in his pocket for himself.
The church was beautiful and the music was nice—the venue she wanted and the song she loved. They fought the whole two weeks before the wedding and he’d already called the lawyers, but he couldn’t
see not following through with this commitment. He had given the one thing he
had for this love, the least he could do was go all the way.
In the back of his mind, he could see House
holding up his hand mouthing, Three down, one more to go. Were he here, Wilson
would have rolled his eyes and enumerated all the things that made he and Amber perfect together, all the things that ensured
this marriage would outlast the others. House would have rolled his eyes right
back and limped off, grumbling about the dangers of leggy doctors with squish mittens.
He would have done that if he were here, grudgingly decked in a tux, and perhaps even shaved for the occasion.
The place to Wilson’s right was conspicuously
vacant and he pointedly looked anywhere else. He’d managed a bachelor party
with no best man and gotten off-his-ass, embarrassingly drunk without any outside help. He was learning, he was adapting;
being the hero instead of the sidekick wasn’t so bad. Maybe.
People
are dying who wouldn’t have before. He tried not to think it but there it was.
She stepped from the doors at the back of
the church.
He gave her to me and I gave him a death sentence.
Her father clung to her arm as though she
was still the dying woman who might yet slip away.
He
was a bastard, but he was the hero. He forced a smile on his face and hoped misery was a good enough stand-in for joy.
She smiled back at him tremulously. She hadn’t been the same since then, possessed by shifting spirits of sympathy
and rage. Sometimes, he thought she saw the regret in his eyes. He’d never
wanted that.
Oh,
God, how do I do this without him? There was no answer and he didn’t know what he should have expected.
When her father joined their hands Wilson
felt like he’d been kicked in the chest. Her eyes were so unbelievably blue today, on a day when any other color would
be a comfort. In their depths, he saw a familiar cynicism growing. She knew this wouldn’t last, as he did. And yet,
it was the least they could do to go through the motions.
This
is the price we paid for you to live.
Her mother wasn’t the only one crying
when they said, “I do.”
His best friend would have smacked him on
the back and told him to man up. He would have gotten him pissed drunk, then, let him crash on his couch. He would have argued Amber to the ground about the flowers and warned her not to hold the ceremony in a
sanctuary for fear of lightning. He would have either charmed or horrified her parents and certainly humiliated Wilson. He would have been right here, whispering in his ear about the getaway car idling
outside and all the things they could do in Vegas. His very presence could have prevented this from being one of Wilson’s
greatest mistakes.
Later on, as the reception lingered and the
best man’s toast was spent in silence, House’s absence was all he felt. His best friend could have made all the
difference today, but he wasn’t here.
Wilson thought he’d rather be in Vegas.
