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Wilson had woken up late, ignoring the headache he had, and managed to drag himself into work. He walked into the hospital, and was only able to take about 15 steps before he was met with Cuddy's piercing blue eyes.
"Where the hell is House?"
Wilson takes a second to process.
"What? Why should I know?"
Wilson sighed. He was not in the mood for house's antics today.
"He was supposed to be here 3 hours ago." Cuddy complains.
Wilson winces. Her voice is louder than he remembers.
"He's always late. Just give him some time to-"
"Wilson! There you are! I hope you don't mind paying for my meal again."
Wilson pinches the bridge of his nose. Usually House is annoying but today? Today he just can't deal. His head pounds. His face feels hot.
"House, I don't have time for this today."
"What the hell's wrong with you? Stayed out a little too late last night? Or was someone-"
"House. I'm serious."
Wilson was getting irritated.
"So am I! So who's the lucky lady?"
God, he always insists it's someone. He needs to learn how to mind his own-
Wilson's thoughts are rudely interrupted by a sudden wave of nausea.
That's weird, I haven't-
"Wilson?"
Wilson is instantly brought back from his thoughts, and House is, unfortunately, still there. But this time his expression is strange. Could it be- concern? Wilson has never seen House wear anything other than bitterness and sarcasm.
"You alright man?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." Wilson says after hesitating, caught off guard by the question. House has never asked if he's ok even after Wilson fell down the stairs drunk that one time.
"Yeah right. What's going on. Hungover again?"
"No- House I just-"
Another wave of nausea. Shit. Maybe he's not as ok as he initially thought.
"Maybe I need to sit down for a minute."
There it is again. That same concerned expression on house's face.
Do I really look that bad?
"Yeah, you should. Come on, I'll walk you to your office."
What the hell? What's going on? Why is he being so nice?
"No- that's ok, thank you. What's going on with you today?"
"What, I can't care about my best friend?"
"Well from what I've seen, apparently not."
"Whatever. You look like shit and I'd rather you not drop dead in the middle of the hallway. We don't have enough lawsuit money for that."
Wilson chuckles slightly, and immediately regrets it.
"Hey what's wrong? you look like your about to hurl."
Wilson takes a deep breath, trying to fight the urge to vomit everywhere. The room spins.
"That's it. I'm taking you home."
"No, House-"
"Don't argue. You need to rest"
"Seriously House. Why are you being so nice? What did you do?"
House inhales through his teeth.
"Well, I maybe might have sort of- drugged you."
"House! Again? Seriously?"
House holds his hands up defensively.
"Sorry I guess."
"You guess? This is like the 6th time! What was it this time? Did I forget to refill your Vicodin?"
"No, but you have been insufferable with the nagging about it recently. House you should stop taking it. House your liver will fail one day. House you need to go to rehab."
Wilson sighs. At this point he's used to the mocking.
"Well excuse me for caring about my friend. you really do need to-"
Oh god.
Wilson's stomach churns.
"Yeah that might be a little side effect of the-"
Wilson suddenly doubles over, vomiting all over the floor. House winces.
"Perfect. Come on Wilson, let's get you home. NEED A JANITOR OVER HERE!" House announces.
The car ride home is silent, and the tension is palpable. Suddenly, a voice cuts through the thick air.
"I'm sorry."
Wilson's brain short circuits. House? Saying sorry? He wasn't sure if it was the drugs or not. Was he hallucinating?
"You- you are?"
House shudders.
"Ugh, that felt weird. I-"
"House."
"What?"
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it. Seriously don't. I have a reputation to uphold."
House's voice fades in Wilson's mind as he feels himself start to nod off. By the time they get to Wilson's apartment he's fast asleep, head lolled against the cold window. House turns off the car.
"Wilson. Wake up."
He wakes up with a start.
"Huh? Where- How did I-"
"We're home genius. Come on. I'm staying."
"Uh... ok?"
Wilson stumbles inside, practically collapsing onto the couch.
"Jesus. I guess I put more in your breakfast than I thought."
House jokes, but Wilson isn't laughing. He just glares, but it has no real fire to it. Unfortunately he's too tired to be mad, and his head is swimming anyway. He's just happy House is finally being nice to him. As much as he hates to admit it, House's jokes do get to him sometimes. As much as he hates house, he really needs him. But he could NEVER admit that.
"Guess you did."
"Here, have some water."
Wilson takes a sip. His stomach does not like that.
"House- I need to-"
House shoves a trash can into Wilson's hand.
"Way ahead of you."
Wilson retches, and is once again leaned over, puking. And all because of House.
House felt a twinge of guilt. He knew he was a bad friend, and an asshole. He knew Wilson thought so too. And he didn't understand why Wilson was still here.
"Shit- um- let it out?"
"Just shut up."
Wilson was tired of it. Tired of House. Tired of getting drugged, and pushed around, and insulted. But he couldn't seem to get himself to leave. Couldn't find the strength to walk out. And he always knew why, although he tried to deny it. It was always in the back of his mind.
Wilson loved house.
And not as a friend.
He had tried and tried and tried to deny it, but he could never shake the feeling. And he he hated it. He hated it so much. He was disgusted with himself.
"House, I-"
...
"I love you."
"Yeah yeah I know. Cut the sappy crap, you're stoned."
"No I- I love you"
Silence.
"Uhhh..."
"Shit- I'm sorry- I- I shouldn't have-"
"No no. It's uh- it's alright. I um- I guess i love you too."
No way.
Wilson thought he might be dreaming. House loves him?
...
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Huh. Wow."
"I mean you always said we'd be a great couple?"
"Yeah. I uh- I guess I did."