House x Wilson

6

Wilson pushed his way through the transparent entryway of Greg House's office. He was rushing back to have urgent words with his friend after he noticed a blemish on the clinic's records. House had ordered a full panel of tests in order for a patient to get a free flu shot. This action almost surprised Wilson until he looked at the name recorded in printed letters on the roster. It was the asexual girl's asexual husband. "You're such a cheater," he snapped when he approached the desk.

House looked up from his medical digest magazine for a single moment before he continued reading the article. In that moment, there was a knowing flash in his blue irises. He was feigning disinterest in their conversation but he wasn't wearing his reading glasses. He had clearly planned for the conversation before Wilson even knew about the husband. "I'm sorry. I was just so drunk—"

"We agreed you wouldn't contact the patient," interrupted Wilson, ignoring the sarcastic deflection. He folded his arms and attempted to make eye contact with his friend, who wasn't cooperating.

House gave a little shrug. "Didn't say anything about the patient's husband."

When he looked up, Wilson could see the starts of a teasing smirk playing at his lips. "You're such a cheater," Wilson repeated. So, he ordered a plethora of unnecessary tests just so he could prove himself right. That was just the way the man practiced medicine and it had been worth keeping him around, so far.

"Perhaps, but that's not why you're here," House pointed out. Earlier that morning, he had seen Wilson with a paper-sized orange envelope. The way he tightly grasped it, his knuckles turning white, indicated an emotional attachment to the contents. When House had walked up to Wilson, it was quickly shoved under some papers by the frantic oncologist. Wilson denied the importance, leaving him to believe it was about him.

Wilson nodded. He knew House was talking about the envelope. He was curious, as always, to know what he had not been told. If Wilson did not confess, House would surely take drastic measures to figure it out on his own. "The envelope," he stated, bluntly. "Human affairs."

House immediately understood. "If you're going to HR to notify them about us you must want our whatever-this-is to end." HR was a notorious department, no doubt. They split couples up by grilling each decision they would make with or regarding each other, thereon out. Professional problems were the last thing they needed. Wasn't this supposed to be their 'fun/falling stage' or whatever?

"Oh, don't go all commitaphobe on me now." Wilson groaned. "You're not afraid of HR ruining our relationship. You're afraid of signing their contract."

"It's a love contract, Wilson. You're right that Human Affairs isn't the biggest relationship killer but we've been together for 2 minutes, no one at this hospital knows, we've had 1 date. It's like I'm one of your ex-wives or something," he huffed. Wilson had been married 3 times. Each time, they were engaged and married within the year, and the downward spiral was always just as fast. I was an idiot to think I'd be any different because I'm his friend or I'm a guy or whatever. His romance was sequential and it's not like House had any less baggage.

The oncologist gaped at him in return. He hadn't realized that House's fears were rooted in the past. He briefly thought back to each marriage. He had thought they had been the one every time. How was his newest commitment supposed to trust his conviction? It meant nothing. "Fine." Wilson muttered. "I'll extract the statement. HR won't mind." He turned around to leave, pausing a brief moment to see if there was any objection. There wasn't.

**********

"Have you noticed anything weird about House?" Chase asked Taub and Foreman, tentatively. They were eating in the cafeteria in an old booth in the corner. All that day, his boss had been acting especially pissy. He thought back to when House had said crap is a relative term after he ratted him out. The longer he worked with the guy, the better he understood.

Taub shrugged. "Well he's a druggie for a reason. Probably just a bad pain day." Taub remembered back to all the times when the weather would change or a patient required more legwork from the doctor and he would wince with every movement. As much as he wanted to spare some sympathy, it was always pointless for the both of them.

"He treats a bad pain day with painkillers. He hasn't been popping pills, he's just... off."

"Go complain to someone who doesn't think House is a total nutjob." Foreman sighed. He drove a car through a wall and then started the whole Vicodin fiasco at the prison. It's clear the irrational part of his brain was a bit twisted. A little mood swing was hardly worth the thought Chase was putting into it.

Chase thought for a moment. They were quick to dismiss anything being wrong because House had a past. "You think he's just losing it?"

Taub shrugged. "He's a great doctor. 'Degenerates can be doctors, too. This is America,'" he quoted his boss.

Chase stood up and dropped his tray on the bin. "Good talk. You're all probably right," he mentioned as he walked off. He didn't believe it and his tone expressed his lack of conviction.

Chase stood in front of Wilson's door, wondering if he should turn back. When he had been surfing for those eight months House was gone, he had missed the guy. He wondered if House considered him a friend at any point. Not in a way where House would exchange secrets or call him when he couldn't sleep but in a way where his presence was comforting.

Despite the fact he knew House would definitely find out about the conversation, he stepped into the small room. He stood awkwardly at the door. Wilson looked at him questioningly. His brown eyes were wide and curious but a bit of fear could be detected.

"How can I help you?" Wilson said, faking cheerfulness. He was far from relaxed. He had been thinking what House said the day before nonstop. He couldn't believe House was dooming the relationship because of Wilson's past. Okay, it seemed logical but other than that it seemed unfair and wrong.

"Somethings going on with House. He's acting sad. I was wondering if you knew why." Chase didn't know if sad was the right word, but House's pissiness differed from his classic brooding melancholy. Wilson thought for a second but his expression differed from the expected puppy-dog concern. The slight brief smile that crossed his face made him seem almost pleased.

"How so?" Wilson asked, not even caring. If House was upset that meant he had the same doubts. Chase began to answer but the oncologist interrupted him. "I'll talk to him immediately. Thanks for telling me."

Chase watched dumbfounded as Wilson scurried out of his office.