Recently saw the show. Fell in love with Hilson. Got a fic idea. c:

Very loosely inspired by a fan-video I saw in the tag: watch?v=rTLiec5gbX0

This will most likely be the only House M.D fic I'll write. I'll upload 1 chapter a week.

Warning if you're not into that type of thing: contains a lot of verbatim dialogue, but for the most part, it has my own + a mix from all episodes. Also there're mentions of the cases from 'Detox' and 'Whac A Mole'.

Wilson sighs quietly as he studies the x-rays, "I think it's broken." He turns to walk over to him and House looks up, "What did you do?"

House snorts. He's cradling his damaged hand with his good one, "Accidentally closed a car door on it."

Wilson shakes his head. He pulls up a seat and gently takes Houses hand to examine it, "No, door would have broken the skin. This looks like something hard and smooth smashed it."

He lets go and House frowns, "I want my lawyer."

Wilson stands to grab some supplies from a drawer while House quietly watches, "The brain has a gating mechanism for pain. Registers the most severe injury and blocks out the others." He meets Houses eyes as he turns back to face him, "Did it work?"

"Well, my hand hurts like hell." There's a beat and House sees Wilsons face soften into concern. He glances at the floor, his voice lowering, "Yeah, I feel much better."

He feels Wilson sit down and hold his fingers again, and he fights down a hiss as his gaze goes to the ceiling. At least he can't feel the pain in his leg anymore. Well, he can. It's just a dull ache now.

Before Wilson can start working on it, he looks at him one more time and he's not surprised to see he still has that puppy dog look in his eyes, "Don't splint it. I want to be able to bang it against the wall if I need to administer another dose." A tense silence follows and it's then that House gets the idea of how seriously Wilson's taking this. He can practically feel the guy burning a hole in his head.

A sigh escapes him and he finally just...caves, "Just...tape it up."

Wilson pauses a moment, but moves slightly forward and begins unravelling the tape. House swallows as he keeps his gaze on his hand, taking in how careful Wilson's being with him - funny, he thought he'd at least try to make it as tight as possible, especially from how much of an ass he's been about this. But no, he's treating him like he would a patient…

Hm.

The seconds tick on, and House shifts on the table when he feels an uncomfortable air fall around him. He looks at Wilsons face, how focused he is on patching him up, and he clears his throat, "Sorry for being an ass before."

Wilson winds the tape around his fingers twice before replying, "Since when do you apologise for your behaviour?"

"I didn't realise how much you cared about my well-being."

"Yeah, well, someone has to."

House raises a brow, "I thought that someone was Cameron."

"She cares about everyone."

"So you're caring about me is different? How?"

Wilson doesn't say anything for a moment, and House thinks he's done with the small talk, but he's surprised when he hears him voice only a few words back,

"Because you're my friend."

Oh. Right.

"Cameron's my friend."

Wilson fights a smile off his face, "No she isn't. You know how she feels about you."

House opens his mouth to reply, but Wilson's already sticking the last part of the tape down. He brings his hand to eye-level as Wilson gathers everything to put back, and smirks when he's able to wiggle his fingers.

He suddenly jerks it back with a gasp, and a hot pain goes through his leg. He lowers his head and closes his eyes, cradling his hand again as he waits for it all to gradually subside. Letting out a shuddering breath, he opens them to see Wilsons feet apart, hands on hips. He doesn't even need to look at his face to know he's even more worried about him now.

"You sure you don't want the splint? It won't take that long."

His voice has instantly lost its 'professional doctor' tone that it makes him laugh in disbelief. Maybe he really is an idiot for hurting himself like this, and he's starting to wonder if asking for Dr. Wilson was a smart idea. He's just been given the sad 'i'm here for you' eyes he gives all his patients the entire time. And he knows exactly what it's like to treated by someone you're close to. Isn't always a good plan.

House stares at the floor, "Didn't you hear what I said before?"

Wilsons forehead creases, "I thought you were kidding." House goes quiet and he steps forward to take his hand again, but House snatches it away with a visible strain, "Seriously, House, this deal with Cuddy is ridiculous. You need Vicodin right now."

Using his good hand, House makes to move off the table, but a glance at Wilson has him pause, "This isn't your problem."

"No, I forgot this became my problem 20 years ago." House rolls his eyes, which Wilson ignores. He shrugs with a drawn out sigh, "Look, if you won't back down from...whatever you're hoping to obtain from this, then maybe you just need another distraction."

"I told you, I'm not letting you splint my hand."

Wilson takes a few steps towards him, "I had another idea in mind."

House tries out his fingers again, huffing in frustration when more pain shoots across the back of his hand, "Not trying to be rude, but I'm not really in the mood for a quickie right now."

A shock runs through him when he feels Wilson take his face and quickly kiss him on the mouth. It's so sudden and….so wet that it leaves House stunned into silence. He just stares at him, but Wilson's only looking back, his arms folded as if waiting for something, "Did that work?"

"I. . ." House's throat has gone...dry for some reason, and with Wilsons eyes on him, turns to his bruised hand, that….doesn't...hurt as much anymore. He tries out his leg, which...is the same. Of course they're still in searing pain, but with what just happened, it's a little difficult to focus solely on his damaged limbs. He looks up at Wilson in utter bewilderment and all he can do is nod.

Wilson has a strange triumphant flush on his face, and he nods in confirmation, "Right. Okay, well, I…if you still want your hand splinted…." His voice trails off and he starts for the door, but before he can reach for the handle, Cuddy bursts in.

"Excuse me, Dr. Wilson."

House doesn't even register for a moment that she's in the room. His brain's still fiercely trying to play catch up; he's just staring dumbly at Wilson, who's watching Cuddy begin to lay into a lost House. With her distracted, and not really caring for Houses mental state, Wilson steals his chance to leave, already knowing House is going to have a few choice questions for him later.

Wilson tactfully avoids him the rest of the day.

Luckily for him, House is swamped with figuring his new patients case out, so has had no time to track him down. He's currently in his office, going through the file of a previous patient when there's a knock on the door.

"Come in."

To his surprise, it's Foreman, "Dr. Wilson, can I speak with you?"

Wilson slowly closes the folder, "Sure, what's up?"

"It's about House."

Wilson gestures for him to close the door, and he puts the folder away as Foreman sits in the chair across from him. He folds his hands together, "You know how he has this deal going on with Cuddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Well….he hasn't been himself lately. He was fine this morning, but he's just been really distracted, and I know it's not from losing his med privileges."

Wilson frowns. He hopes he has a good poker face on, "He hurt his hand this morning. Is it because of that?"

Foreman shakes his head with a smile, "I saw the tape on his fingers. Told me he got it stuck in a drawer."

Wilson nods in thought, pretending to ponder over the ordeal while Foreman pauses when something comes to him, "Do you know who did the patch job?"

"He asked me to, why?"

Foreman shrugs, "No reason, just...wondering if something happened between the time he got it fixed up to us discussing the case in his office." He looks closely at Wilson, who's trying so hard not to give anything away, "Did anything...go on when you were treating him? Did he say anything, do anything….?

"...No, he just left the room after Cuddy and Dr. Cameron talked to him."

"You're sure?"

Wilson snorts, beginning to smile, "What is this, 20 questions?"

"It's just that...well, you know him better than anyone here. I would've thought he'd have told you something that's been on his mind lately."

"If there is, he hasn't said anything to me."

There's a pause as they look at one another. Foreman's studying him so intently that Wilson's sure he has it all figured out, and he readies himself to tell him everything...until Foreman unclasps his hands and Wilson feels a relief wash over him when he gets up from the chair.

"Alright. Sorry to bother you, Dr. Wilson."

Wilson smiles briefly, but when the door shuts, he lets it fall and rubs a hand over his face, a heavy exhaustion suddenly taking a hold of him. He checks the clock to see it's only hit 3pm and he leans back in his chair, wondering how House is getting on with his case.

He wonders what Cuddy and Cameron said to him. Cuddy was angry, that was obvious. Practically shouting at him so loudly the nurses could hear. And he'd passed Dr. Cameron on the way back to his office. Being in such a daze, he probably had no idea what they were saying to him.

Hopefully he didn't have any huge decisions to make on his patient afterwards.

Wilson closes his eyes a moment. He doesn't want to think on that…

He's over running this through his head. Putting his chair right, he reaches for the folder he'd been reading before Foreman came in and makes himself busy going over it incase House decides to make his announcement.

Night's finally fallen when House barges into his office.

Well, he doesn't exactly barge in. He just opens the door in his abrupt way as if he has something important to declare, and Wilson glances up from scribbling down a few prescriptions for his patients to see House simply waltz in the room tossing his new Vicodin bottle in his good hand like he has a certain thing on his mind but he isn't ready to start on it just yet. The light on Wilsons desk glows softly against the walls and coupled with the darkness outside, it makes for a slightly comforting ambience.

Wilson gestures to him with his pen, "Heard you got punched today."

House's staring out the window as he answers him, the bottle still being thrown in the air, "Why, you want to kiss it better?"

Wilson shakes his head with a small smile as he continues, the joking tone gone, "Parent didn't trust me. Usual story." He puts the bottle back in his pocket and finally turns to him, "What isn't usual is what you did today."

"Fix your hand?" He stops writing to give him his full attention, "How is it by the way?"

"I'm talking about you kissing me." House rests his fingers atop his cane and almost peers at him, "Either you treat all your patients that way or I'm a 'special case'.

"Is there a third option?"

House frowns, "Should there be? Boy, I hadn't even considered one."

Wilson sighs, exasperated, "It was a distraction! Why do you need to treat everything like it's a game?"

House points his cane at him, smiling broadly, "It was an excuse, wasn't it? Which means there is a third option." He scoffs, "You're way too professional to not initiate physical contact with someone in the workplace unless you had an ulterior motive, and me being your best friend, well. That just makes it easier."

Wilson folds his arms, "You're enjoying this, aren't you? It could mean absolutely nothing, and you'd still try to find some way to make it have at least an ounce of subtext." He makes a small gap with his fingers and Houses eyes narrow,

"Well, you're not denying it."

"I'm curious to know if this bet with Cuddy was worth it."

Houses mouth falls open, "You're changing the subject! Clearly you don't want to talk about this!"

Wilson sits up, "No, I just don't see why you have to over-analyse something I did, which, as I said, was a distraction."

"You want to know what I think?"

"Be my guest. I've got all night apparently."

"I think." House starts towards his desk and puts his cane against the edge of it. Wilson watches as he puts on a high pitched, over excited voice, and pretends to hold up a trophy. "You like me! Right now! You like me!"

"No, don't tell me, I know this one." Wilson plays up trying to figure it out, while House stares at him incredulously as he takes his cane back. When he snaps his fingers, House rolls his eyes, "Sally Field, Oscars Acceptance Speech 1985 for Places in the Heart."

"Just admit it, Wilson. You kissed me back there because you have a crush on me and you used the word 'distraction' as an excuse to plant one on me."

"Do you get a kick out of doing this? You can't just...accept that it was actually a distraction?"

"No, I can't accept that, because it isn't true."

Wilson puts his hands on the desk, "Let me just play up your fantasy for a moment." House goes over to the couch and throws himself on the cushion, along with his cane as he listens to Wilson rattle on in a mysterious voice. He knows this is going to take awhile, "Say I did kiss you because I like you, which I'm not agreeing or disagreeing with - "

" - You're quick to put that on the table - "

" - I wouldn't be able to do anything about it because I'm married and I love my wife."

"Yeah, I've heard of the illusion of truth too." He scoffs, "And being married hasn't stopped you before, so you can't use that excuse." He picks up his cane and bangs it on the carpet as he pulls himself up, "I think you need to have a long talk with your wife."

Wilson watches him walk over with a stunned expression, "There's nothing to talk about!"

House stops just a foot from his desk, "You don't think you need to tell her about what you did today?"

"She never wants to hear about my day."

"Ignoring the fact that your marriage is already so terrible that you can't even talk about your day without being shunned…" Wilson makes a grab for his pen, already going back to filling out a new prescription, "I think she'll want to hear about this. And make sure to mention that I'm your friend. Saying I'm a patient will definitely ring some alarm bells."

Right as he finishes speaking, Wilson tears the paper off and holds it out to him, "Here's a prescription for a new bottle of Vicodin if you'll leave me alone."

House pouts, "But you've been alone all day!"

Wilson doesn't even glance at him as he shakes the prescription in his hand, but House stays rooted to the spot. Realising he isn't going to give in, Wilson draws away with a tired sigh, "What'll it take for you to go home?"

"If you just admit that there was more to that kiss than you were letting on!"

Wilson laughs scornfully, "There's nothing to admit! It was a distraction, that's it!"

House looks at him for a long time, but Wilson doesn't budge an inch, and finally the silence's broken when House reaches in his pocket for a Vicodin. He pops it in his mouth before speaking, "You can't lie to yourself forever."

"Why not? You do it all the time."

"Yeah, but I'm me. Soon the guilt will eat away at you until you have a breakdown over your quinoa salad and then you'll have no choice but to tell all to Julie."

"And you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

House dry swallows the pill, "Anything to help a friend ruin his already crappy marriage. Or save it. Take your pick."

Wilson points his pen at the door, "Night, House."

"Do you want a goodnight kiss?" Wilson just stays silent and he nods in confirmation, "Fine. I'll still take that prescription though."

Wilson glances up, and when he sees House is serious, he takes the paper from his desk and passes it over. As their fingers brush, House seizes his opportunity and leans his body forward to kiss Wilsons forehead. Before Wilson can say a word, House is already leaving the office, stuffing the prescription in his other pocket and wearing a smile on his face, "Stop lying!"