House let out a long-suffering sigh.

He and Wilson had been dragged along with Cuddy and Rachel to the fair. Well, actually, House had been dragged here by Cuddy, and Wilson had been blackmailed into this by House, who refused to third-wheel his girlfriend and her adopted daughter. And he was having exactly as much fun as he’d expected. Loud noises, screaming kids, the acrid scent of burnt sugar; it was all an assault on his senses, and it was really pissing him off.

He didn’t even know why he’d agreed to this. Actually, yes, he did - he’d been so zoned out (dissociated) when Cuddy asked him about it that he’d agreed without protest. And he was currently regretting all of his choices. He really shouldn’t have allowed himself to dissociate like that. But he’d had a really long day, and it wasn’t his fault Cuddy was persistent. House sighed again.

Cuddy was walking ahead, holding an excitable Rachel’s hand. Four years old and perhaps endearingly excited, the girl was practically vibrating with energy, chattering nonstop. Mercifully, House couldn’t make out a word of it. Cuddy was smiling, clearly pleased her daughter was enjoying the day so much. House and Wilson were trailing behind, House looking intensely uncomfortable with the whole situation and Wilson looking around wide-eyed like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He was clearly enjoying the sensory assault just as much as House was.

House saw Wilson stiffen out of the corner of his eye, and he paused, turning to look at his friend. Wilson was staring at a game with all the big teddy bears hanging up tantalisingly by their necks.

House had never felt more jealous of a stuffed animal.

Wilson kept staring, doe-eyed. House groaned internally. He knew he was trapped now. He knew Wilson hadn’t had the best childhood. He knew he’d probably never been allowed to do the fairground games. He also knew that Wilson was completely incompetent when it came to shooting anything, whether that be his shot or just a potato gun. And shooting things seemed to be the main component of this game - which House begrudgingly agreed he excelled at. So it was with much annoyance and irritation that House took Wilson’s hand and led him over to the game, muttering, “Why do I bother?” under his breath.