To put it frankly—Wilson was not having a good day today. Per usual House was being annoying, but on top of that a patient he was particularly close with, had passed. This was also pretty usual, as he literally worked with only sick people, but it still hurt.
House came on his merry way to Wilson's office, after stalking his schedule and seeing he was with his patient, to turn all of the oncologist's furniture upside down for fun. However when he entered the room, he could feel that the air was thick with grieving, and Wilson was in his office with his head in his hands.
"Let me guess. Your patient died?" House said, laying himself down on the other doctors couch.
"Not right now House."
"I'm hungry."
"Okay? What do you want me to do about it?" Wilson said looking up at him.
"We're going to Burger King. Grab your key's, you're driving," House shouted already up and walking out of the office towards the elevator as Wilson eventually dragged himself up, trailing behind.
The drive to Burger King was quite boring; House chatted about the news article he had read about child slavery while avoiding his own work, and Wilson drowned it out aside from the occasional nod. As the car pulled up there was a slight discussion about drive through or dine in, eventually settling on dine in as they parked.
"I'll take a whopper with no bun, milk with ice and a vanilla ice cream, thank you," Wilson said, once at the counter.
The middle aged woman behind the counter immediately replied, "The ice cream machine is currently broken."
"No it's not." House piped up, always denying the fact things could genuinely be broken, especially something like an ice cream machine at a fast food place.
"I'm sorry sir, it is actually broken," The worker replied, dumbfounded at House's sudden statement.
House lifting himself over the counter while handing Wilson his cane spit out: "No it's not, I can see it running. Here- hold this,"
"What are you doing?" The worker said practically panicking as House grabbed an ice cream cone, heading to fill it with vanilla for his friend who was so rudely denied of it.
As the ice cream cone was slowly filled with vanilla ice cream, House looked the worker who was running around for her manager in the eyes and said, "It's not broken."
Wilson was stood back, shocked at the other man's actions and apologizing profusely to the worker, who had finally dragged her manager over. House strolled away from the perfectly working ice cream machine, handing Wilson his now filled ice cream cone and once again, jumping over the counter.
"You need to leave, sir. I will call the cops, and you are banned from this establishment. Customers cannot go behind the counter under any circumstances," The manager, who was fuming, spit out coldly.
"I am so sorry we are leaving right now—here let me pay you," Wilson replied dishing out a couple dollars and throwing it on the counter, then turning around to run out of the door where House had already exited.
"House! Why the hell did you do that?"
"You wanted ice cream. And they were lying."
"I mean- yeah- but that doesn't mean you jump behind the counter!"
House simply shrugged. He wanted the ice cream. He was gonna get the ice cream. The car started on the silent drive back home to their shared apartment. When they arrived, they walked into their according rooms, but Wilson quickly said;
"Thanks for the ice cream by the way. I needed it," and went to bed.
